Warlord's Realm
by Tusken1602
Summary: Collaborative Crossover between Katkiller-V's "Another Realm" series and my own "Beacon's Effect" series. What would happen if Ko'le, Seneschal of the Conclave, actually ever met Cieran Kean? If you have not read Katkiller-V's Mass Effect Fanfics, I cannot recommend them strongly enough. If you have not read "Beacon's Effect," this story won't make sense...
1. Chapter 1: Introduction

Hello, everyone!  
This is a collaborative effort between Katkiller-V and myself, just putting together a few chapters to see what would happen if our Mass Effect SI/OCs were to interact with one another.

The way the chapters will be set up is, I will write the first section from Ko'le's POV, then Katkiller-V will write the second section, where we will see the events from Cieran Kean's POV.

If you haven't read Katkiller-V's _Arrival_ series, GO. NOW. READ THEM. They're awesome, and I was ecstatic beyond words when Kat contacted me to ask about a quick mash-up. Definitely some of my favorite fics on this entire site.

If you HAVE had the pleasure of reading the _Arrival_ series, then there are some things you need to know. This takes place **entirely** in the Beacon's Effect Universe. Therefore:

* * *

1) There is no Matriarch stealing people from our world and using their game knowledge for her own ends. Therefore, Cieran Kean has no knowledge from the games.

2) Cieran Kean is NOT taken by the Matriarch (who doesn't even exist AS SUCH in this Universe), so he grows up on Xentha with his adopted batarian mother. He works with weapons, armor, upgrades, etc, gaining some degree of notoriety as his talents are brought to light.

3) This means he has NOT met Trena, Ghai, or the Sharyaaks (and therefore is NOT a Harath'krem, much less a Reja'krem) as he has not been to Illium.

4) While living in Xentha, he runs across trophy taker Voya, who is after a group of slavers who have kidnapped her brother. Patching up her wounds she's sustained trying to rescue him alone, Kean modifies his power-suit (that he uses for loading in the shop) and the two of them take out the slavers.

5) This of course brings him to the attention of the Lady Warlord, who is thankful that Kean took out the slave ring operating without her permission in HER city, and is also impressed by the power-armor. Kean is contracted to construct more and, through his earnest and frank nature, becomes one of her independent assassin/mechanic/adviser for the Lady. Voya joins him on many of his missions, as the two of them have established their signature shaky friendship (minus AR Voya's emotional TRAUMA of being sold and abused in slavery).

6) There WAS an invasion of Redcliffe, but Lady T'Ravt took it over from the Blue Suns, in the chaos after Ko'le/Massani's "Black Sun" coup and the decimation of their leadership. Kean did see action in this invasion, along with several other AR characters (whom we will meet).

* * *

This chapter takes place immediately after the Council chapter of Beacon's Effect 2: Reborn (Chapter 24) but BEFORE the mission to Heshtok.

Shepard is NOT back yet, and Ko'le is commanding the _Normandy_ with Kolyat, EDI, Jane, Turro, and Pyke as his squadmates (Javik is still on the Citadel in his role as representative for the Prothean Remnant).

Ko'le has come to Xentha to negotiate with the Lady T'Ravt, who has invited Kean (as he is one of the higher-ranking humans in her employ). Ko'le's second objective is to have a sit-down with the Elder of the Terminus Quarians and extend a hand of friendship.

We hope you guys will enjoy reading these as much as we enjoy writing them!

Thanks!

-Tusken1602


	2. Chapter 2: Terminus Arrival

* **KO'LE***

 **CSV** _ **NORMANDY**_ **  
XENTHAN SYSTEM  
MAFERATH CLUSTER**

"Someone remind me _why_ we're dragging along in the back-ass end of nowhere?" Jane complained, standing next to me on the bridge of the _Normandy_. "I thought we were going to see some _action_ …."

" **We are less than an hour out of Xentha, Miss Jane** _ **,"**_ EDI responded, her avatar coming online. **"the headquarters of Lady Warlord Yan T'Ravt."**

I chuckled.

"I think Jane was being sarcastic, EDI," I explained gently.

I then turned to answer Jane directly.

"Our fleet needs time to coordinate our invasion of Heshtok," I began, "Meanwhile, our journey to the Shrike Abyssal takes us right by here."

"If by 'right by here,' you mean THREE days' travel from the nearest Mass Relay?" Jane asked, exasperated.

Pyke shook his head from his place on my left.

"Dem shame, sah, this generation," he said, affecting an air of martyrdom. "Spoiled on instant FTL, they are. Miss Jane, I've spent six _months_ on a fippin' spice trawler before."

"Which for vorcha is like, what, half your life?" Jane retorted.

Pyke's eyes narrowed at the jab at vorchas' short lifespans.

"WHY are we going to see this…Lady Warlord T'Ravt, _Seneschal_?" Turro'le asked, his feathers around his neck flaring with curiosity. "Sitting down to parley with pirates seems beneath the office of the _Imperator_."

All eyes turned to look at Turro with incredulity, except for Jane's.

"Lady T'Ravt is _not_ a 'pirate'," I explained to the giant Raloi. "She controls one of the largest sections of territory in the Terminus Systems, along with the largest private fleet, rivaled only by Aria T'Loak. _Maybe_ Jederis and her Eclipse fleet as well, but I doubt it."

"Aria T'Loak…" mused Turro, trying to remember all the information he had been absorbing the last several seeks. Then his eyes lit up as he remembered, "Oh, yes, the asari who calls herself 'The Queen of Omega'?"

"The very same, sah," confirmed Pyke. "There are several who have called T'Ravt 'The Queen of the Terminus,' though it 'taint a title she claims herself, ya'understand."

"Have _you_ ever worked for her, Sergeant-Major?" wondered Kelly Chambers, standing by the yeoman's station. "Back in your mercenary days, I mean?"

"Pish-tosh, no, madam," Pyke answered, "Despises vorcha, the Lady Warlord does. Comes from her long rivalry with the Blood Pack, I daresay. Refuses to use them in her army or fleet."

"Her loss, my friend," I interjected, earning a polite nod of thanks from the vorcha Sergeant-Major.

"How big of a fleet are we talking here?" asked Kolyat.

EDI activated, rattling off what we knew of T'Ravt so far.

" **Current Con-Sec intelligence sources report T'Ravt's security fleet at over 400 frigate and destroyer-class warships, Corporal Krios, with an additional 100 or so cruiser-class ships and 8 capital-class dreadnoughts. Her economic strength is such as she appears able to support this military force quite comfortably."**

Kolyat slowly turned and stared out the window at the two ships following close behind us.

"Then why in Kalahira's name are we _giving_ her TWO MORE?"

"Lady T'Ravt contracted the warlord Hienrich die Waffe and the Stormwall shipyards to build the _Riptide_ and _Bloodtide_ ," I explained, gesturing to the ships. "After the Conclave Fourth and Sixth Battle groups seized control of the Stormwall shipyards last month, their construction was…halted. The Conclave is returning them to the Lady Warlord as a show of good faith."

"We're just _returning_ two dreadnoughts for her to potentially use against us?" Jane asked.

"The ships are far from finished," I clarified, "and have no weapons installed. They will require a _significant_ dedication of the Warlord's resources in order to complete them, which will take, at the absolute soonest, about six months of work and _millions_ of credits."

Turro nodded sagely.

"A clever stratagem, _Seneschal_ ," he said, cocking his head to the right in the Raloian equivalent of a grin. "We win goodwill with T'Ravt, and give her two hulks that she will have expend manpower and credits to _maintain_ , much less complete. As well as fill two berths in her own shipyards, which will slow the production of the rest of her ships."

I shrugged my shoulders. "Win-win."

"Dem fine plan, sah," approved Pyke, with a toothy vorcha grin. "Dem fine."

"Speaking of which: EDI, open a line to the _Blood Tide_ ," I requested. "Get Elam on the horn."

" **Right away, Dad,"** EDI replied, **"Connecting you now…."**

Elam'Koris vas Qwib-Qwib's helmeted face appeared on my Omni-Tool.

 _"Seneschal?"_ he asked.

"Elam, how are the Tides holding together?" I asked. "How goes it with your engineering teams?"

 _"We're keeping them together,"_ Elam said _, "That ride through the relay damn near tore the temporary shield-generators apart, though. We've repaired most of the systems on the ride over, but they're not going to have much beyond life-support."_

"Tell your men to do their best, then you report over to the _Normandy_ ," I answered. "I don't want to do too much of T'Ravt's work for her. They just need to look good. But I _do_ want you with us when we head down to Celthani."

Elam's face fell, in so far as I could tell through the helmet. _"Ok. But I still think this part of the plan is completely insane."_

"Your dad wouldn't have picked you for this job if he thought you couldn't handle it," I reassured him.

" _That's not what I'm worried about,"_ Elam clarified. **"** _Have you ever_ _met a Terminus Quarian, Ko'le?"_

"Wait, a _what?"_ Jane asked.

"They're a sub-culture of the quarians," Kelly explained. "They left the Migrant Fleet fairly soon after the evacuation of Rannoch. Founded several colonies in the Terminus System. Been separate ever since. The largest of these is located on Xentha, under T'Ravt's authority."

 **"They have since been decidedly hostile to the Migrant Fleet ever since,"** EDI added. **"The Terminus quarians viewing the Migrant Fleet residents as weak, and the Migrants viewing the other as traitors. The enmity runs deep on both sides."**

 _"That's because hey're ancestor-damned-crazy bosh'tets_ _,_ _"_ Elam interjected. **"** _I ran into one on Omega. Crazy_ _keshin KARKING STABBED me! On sight! No 'hello, goodbye' or anything! I didn't even SAY anything to her! She just punctured my suit with her knife and kept walking, laughing to herself."_

"Elam," I interrupted. "You said this wasn't going to be a problem…"

The quarian diplomat sighed.

" _No,"_ he corrected, **"** _I said that Iwould do it. The problem won't be MY ability to deliver a civil message offering peace and reconciliation. The PROBLEM will be how to get in and out of the Old City without getting STABBED in the back by one of these suit-less bosh'tets. I was sick for a week after that incident on Omega!"_

"Never said this was going to be easy," I admitted. "But with a planet of your own now, you can offer the Terminus Quarians something they've never had before: a home where they can live without being the underpaid, just-shy-of-slave workforce of warlord dictators like T'Ravt."

 _"Ko'le,"_ Joker cut in over the ship's radio, " _ETA to Xenthan local orbit is now fifteen minutes. We've been met by our Xenthan escorts."_

I nodded to the _Normandy_ 's pilot, who gave me a "thumbs-up" sign from his leather seat.

"Yellow Alert," I ordered. "All hands standby."

The _Normandy_ sprang into action.

"Turro, you'll be on the shuttle with Elam and me," I told the big Raloi. "I think you'll appreciate your first look at Terminus culture."

Turro nodded acknowledgement, then moved to the elevator to collect his things.

"Pyke, I need you here with Kelly and Kolyat to coordinate with the 3rd Battle Group," I told the Sergeant-Major. "It's your homeworld we're about to be invading when we wrap things up here. I need your eyes and expertise on this. Whatever Quesh Hurgott has planned for the vorcha, it can't be good."

"Very good, sah!" Pyke answered, with an impeccable parade-ground salute. "We'll have a bally plan of action to deal with the rotters when you get back, sah!"

I turned to Jane.

"Jane…I'd love to take you with us…" I began.

"I know," she finished. "You don't really want the clone of the most recognizably-famous human in the galaxy at your arm in a warlord's stronghold."

I smiled and nodded.

"Plus, I owe you one for shooting me," I said, stepping past her.

"It was a non-lethal round!" she yelled out behind me, "When are you going to let that GO?"

I stepped into the elevator, hitting the button for the Shuttle bay.

 _Well,_ I thought, _Here goes nothing…_

* * *

* **CIERAN KEAN*  
** **CELTHANI,  
XENTHA  
** **T'RAVT PALACE COMPLEX**

"This is a complete and total waste of time." I growled, my black armored boots clicked hard on the granite flooring as I paced. My long trench-coat, its lines broken by the armor and barrier nodes worked between the layers of rich leather, billowed a bit around my legs as I moved. "Sacred Pillars, I thought we were supposed to be preparing for the run out to the Dark Rim. Not playing...whatever game this is going to be."

Rane'li ul Ben'mass sighed through her teeth, all four of her dark eyes blinking as she tilted her head and positioned her body to show fond amusement. She was tall, like most Batarian women, eclipsing my own six foot plus frame by a bit. Her skin was a light copper, darkened somewhat by Xenthan sun carried in through the hall's windows.

She wasn't curvy, not like a human or an Asari woman, but her features were delicate for a Batarian, and her pointed ears were almost elfin in length. And beneath her armor was a stomach that was incredibly ripped to go with a frame that emphasized her species's natural strength. "Nothing is going to be gained by working yourself up about it Cie."

I gave her a mild glare, flicking my pale green eyes between both of her black sets. "Don't tell me you support this."

"Of course not." My Batarian lover replied, smoothly moving to block off my pacing, ducking her head a bit to the left in submission. "But you aren't going to impress the Lady Warlord by being anxious."

She was right. As usual. Letting out a slow breath, I leaned against her so that my neatly braided goatee brushed against the exposed skin on her neck. There was a low rumble of pleasure at the touch, though the contact was muted by the fact that we were both wearing our light plating beneath our equally armored coats.

"I understand _why_ she's negotiating with him." I exhaled finally, "He's destabilized the entire Terminus, created an empire out of galactic cast-offs, and is generally proving to be a giant pain in the ass. But I don't understand why _we_ need to be here."

"Why _you_ need to be here." Rane corrected me, her hands reaching up behind me. A few gentle tugs on my hair helped her confirm that my long hair was properly tied in a loose pony-tail. "While I'm sure that she appreciates myself and the others, you have become her primary troubleshooter since the Blue Suns fiasco."

She meant since the campaign on Redcliffe, and what a fucked up year _that_ had been. We'd gone in expecting a quick operation and ended up stuck in a protracted ground campaign across the entire cursed planet. "Her main assassin, you mean."

There was a tiny, rolling shrug as she finally stepped back from me, her head returning to a neutral position. "Regardless of the word used, you are the best she has at eliminating problematic targets, and you've also developed a habit of providing her with new and useful means of killing people. Having you present will send a message to this Imperator."

Grunting, I turned away and paced over to the nearest window. The local sun was lowering, illuminating the massive city as it lay sprawled between the mountains. "I know that too. Just annoyed is all, I'd rather finish out the current contract so I can work on something else."

"You want to vanish into your workshop for another six months to work on your new ideas." She corrected me, her tone amused. "I suppose I can't blame you, I nearly had that VI properly configured before we left."

I grunted. "It stop registering everyone besides us as a threat yet?"

"Well..." Rane hedged. "Not quite. But it only considers Voya a low priority target now."

"I'm sure she was thrilled." I couldn't help but snort as I shook my head. "Please tell me you didn't have it loaded into a mech this time?"

"Of course not." She protested, though a quick glance confirmed that her cheek had shifted to an almost muddy brown in embarrassment. "And that was _one_ time."

"Right." I smiled slightly, but before I could tease her further the combead in my left ear clicked to life.

" _Master Kean."_ A Turian woman growled, her voice irritated. " _The... Imperator is on final approach. Your presence is requested."_

Letting out a slow breath, I nodded and turned away to start walking down the hallway. "Thank you, Lieutenant. Are Voya and Thul already present?"

" _Trophy-Taker Voya'chi vas Xentha is present, along with Reyja'krem Thul ul Aldaara,"s_ he supplied. " _I remind you that your orders are to assist Talon Team Seven in escorting the Imperator and his guards to the primary throne room."_

"We remember." I sighed. "No one will get killed without the Lady's say-so first. How many guards does he have with?"

" _Unknown sir."_ An irritated pause followed. " _Considering that he only felt the need to bring a single vessel along with the two hulks, I would not anticipate many."_

My lips twisted a little. If the staff was already annoyed with the Imperator, I couldn't imagine that the Warlord herself was going to be in a good mood. Showing up with just a single light cruiser, in addition to a pair of dreadnought hulks? The guy either had a quad the size of Omega... or he was a complete and total idiot who didn't understand how things worked out here.

Going by what I knew of him, I had a hard time believing that he could be that stupid. Practically every move he'd made had worked for him, despite the apparent insanity of what he was doing. Taking out die Waffe had been an inspired move, removing the largest ship production facility in the Terminus and preventing Aria from bulking her fleet up any further.

But then again... he was following up that master stroke by negotiating with T'Ravt? Why wasn't he hammering Aria _now_ , when she was teetering and off-balance by the loss of her ally?

"What is your game, Imperator?" I asked quietly as we walked down the elegant hallway, my natural curiosity demanding answers I couldn't give it yet. "Why are you here?"

It didn't take as long as I thought it would to get my answer, though it very much wasn't the one that I expected.


	3. Chapter 3: Negotiations

***KO'LE*  
CELTHANI, XENTHA**

The _Normandy_ locked into the shipping bay, Turro, Elam'Koris and I stepped off the gangplank to take in the impressive sight. Two solid rows of turian soldiers in slightly off-white armor lined each side of the bay, standing at attention. It wasn't so much the number of soldiers in the welcoming committee that surprised me: T'Ravt had an impressive standing army, larger even than Aria's. But Aria's guards and soldiers largely equipped themselves with patchwork and mismatched equipment. These soldiers here would give the Hierarchy a run for their money, with their fully-matched off-white suits of armor and fully modded Vindicators were clasped to their chests.

At the far end of the docking bay stood two figures. It did not escape me that we were being essentially marched past all these troops to reach them.

 _Subtle._

The human in front was dressed in black armor with a long brown trenchcoat completing his outfit. He stood proud, hands clasped behind him, pale-green eyes regarding me with a cold and haughty air. His long black mane was pulled back in a loose pony tail that bore multiple streaks of blue in the strands.

Behind was a batarian female, also well-armored. Despite being slightly taller and brawnier than her human counterpart, her hands folded in front, her head slightly bent to the left in a demurer stance.

" _Imperator_ Ko'le," the human said, his head inclining to the right in a distinctly batarian body language, "Welcome to Xentha. The Lady Warlord has sent us to escort your party to the palace."

His tone was wary. My Prothean senses detected a heavy aura of suspicion and heavily-guarded skepticism.

 _Understandable_.

"Thank you," I replied, nodding graciously. "We are honored that the Lady would grant us such an impressive welcoming committee."

Again with a barely-polite head-nod.

"If you'll follow me, Imperator?" the human said, turning to lead the way towards the impressive fortress structure commanding the city. Turro and Elam followed me closely, with the guards falling in behind us with a parade-ground order that would have done Pyke Morrell proud. The batarian woman moved to walk directly beside the human who had greeted us.

" _Only two guards?"_ I heard her ask, in the batarian language. It was difficult to hear above the noise of the city and the marching of feet.

" _Asshole thinks he's still on the Citadel_ ," I heard the human respond in the same language.

 _Interesting. I guess a Terminus "warlord" of my stature would have brought a larger honor guard._

The streets cleared in front of us, the civilians and merchants cramming the narrow alleyways in order to give the _entire_ road to our party. There were turians, mostly, with batarians and asari mixed in in smaller numbers. Very occasionally, I saw the odd krogan sitting in a bar or restaurant we passed. But what _was_ the same were the expressions on people's faces as we passed.

 _Distain._

 _Anger._

 _Suspicion._

"You'd find more cheer in a graveyard," Elam'Koris remarked next to me.

"We are guests here," I replied, "In their minds, we're invaders from Council Space coming into _their_ territory."

"They do seem hostile," Turro added, his head tilting warily to the left. "They would attack of us if they could."

"No doubt," I admitted.

As impressive as the city may have been (even compared to places like Nos Astra, and _definitely_ Omega), the fortress commanding the surrounding area was even more so. As we neared the front gates, a batarian soldier, an officer, if I interpreted the bars on the shoulders correctly, snapped to attention.

"Commander Kean," he said, inclining his head sharply to the left.

 _Surprising amount of deference for a batarian to show a human in the Terminus Systems._

"Imperator Ko'le of the Conclave, answering the Lady's summons," Kean replied, gesturing to me in a tone of voice that commanded respect and action.

The officer looked over at me and his head even went _further_ to the left, to the point that I thought he might strain something.

" _Imperator,"_ he said, to which I nodded, tilting my head the right and forward to a degree that I hoped communicated polite acknowledgement of an inferior rank. Based upon Kean and the female's surprised reaction at the batarian gesture, I think I got it right.

"Is the Lady ready to receive us?" I asked, switching over to the batarian's tongue.

When you have Prothean memory implants and the ability to Mind-Share, learning languages is a pretty simple matter.

 _That_ got a visible reaction from the female, and even Kean narrowed his eyes, but to his credit, made no other sign of being surprised.

"She is in the Central Chamber, my Lord," the officer replied, "Her orders are to send you in immediately."

"Then I suggest they be _obeyed_ ," Kean said, his own body language shifting to an officer demanding obedience and respect. The language changed tone as well.

 _Probably a different dialect_ , I imagined.

The officer stepped aside with a speed that couldn't have been matched if Kean had set him on fire.

"This way, Imperator," Kean said to me, motioning me to follow.

The fortress was itself an homage to Xentha's history: the wide courtyards with the overlooking balconies screamed batarian in their design. The thickness of the stone and the rough, angular construction of the defensive walls were very krogan, reminding me of the ruins on Tuchanka. Then, if one paid careful attention, you could see the turian influence, with the sentry posts guarded by hidden corners and blind staircases, all geared to entrap and confuse an invading enemy force. Then as we neared what I assumed to be the inner chambers, the asari aversion to straight lines became obvious, with winding hallways and arched doors.

Kean and his batarian servant (I assumed by her bearing and deference to him) made their way through the corridors without pause or hesitation, showing that, whatever the human's rank, he had been called to this "Central Chamber" enough to know his way there by heart.

We finally rounded the last corner to reveal a large pair of rounded doors. Two asari stood guard at each one. As we approached, they each flared their biotics, the massive doors opening with a blue glow.

The throne room, as the "Central Chamber" turned out to be, was a long and wide room, capable of holding over a hundred people if need be. A batarian _ha'diq_ would have felt very at-home, which I suspected was exactly the purpose of this hall's construction.

At the far end of the hall, on the raised dais, was a large couch. On it reclined an asari who I would have recognized easily as Lady Yan T'Ravt, even if I hadn't memorized the picture of her in the Con-Sec intelligence file. Her every fiber _breathed_ regality, and her relaxed position on the couch translated to confidence and majesty, without even the _hint_ of sloth or apathy. Behind her stood a somewhat elderly turian in her signature white and blue armor. On his left was a batarian in resplendent gold and red dress robes that _almost_ looked like a priest of the Pillars, or at least a member of the priest caste. And to the batarian's left…

 _So that's a Terminus Quarian._

It was a bit startling to see an unmasked quarian in public, her white mane clipped short around her pointed, elf-like ears. A bone necklace came down around her chestplate. A second glance revealed the bones to be shards of krogan head-plates. The symbolism was unmistakable: these were trophies of battle. She seemed to stiffen at the sight of the Migrant quarian to my left, and even at this distance, I saw a hand reflexively dip towards the small of her back.

The Lady looked up and nodded at Kean, who had taken his place in the open doorway, assuming a very batarian gesture of deep respect and honor. Kean turned back to us, shifting his entire body rather than simply turning his head in the human fashion.

"The Lady will see you now," he said simply, turning again and striding down the long hall. Now his tone bespoke annoyance, almost with a hint of boredom.

 _Human, but with almost entirely batarian body language and mannerisms,_ I wondered.

 _Former slave perhaps?_

 _No, none of the deference of someone raised a slave._

 _Adopted?_

I found it hard to imagine a batarian family willing to take in a _human_ , but before I could give the matter more thought, we were standing at the foot of the raised dais. Kean ascended the steps to take a place directly to T'Ravt's right. The batarian female, I noticed, took a position directly behind him, her head bobbing to the left demurely as she passed him, and his to the right.

"Lady T'Ravt," Kean said, gesturing to the asari, and then to me, " _Imperator_ Ko'le of the Conclave."

" _Imperator,"_ T'Ravt said in greeting. The single word flowed like silk and honey. "I am glad to finally meet a warrior of your stature. Your reputation proceeds you in these sectors of space."

I offered a polite bow, as befitting a warrior of her rank.

"The Goddess smiles upon the hour of our meeting, Lady T'Ravt," I said, switching over to High Thessian. "Athame's blessings upon this house, and all that dwell therein."

T'Ravt raised an eyebrow, more in amusement at the antiquated asari greeting, I think, rather than the revalation that I spoke her language. She rose to her feet, her white flowing robe falling around her feet gracefully. She strode forward, extending her right hand.

"And the blessings upon the Wanderer, who enters its doors," she responded in the same language, giving the customary response. "Come in, and find rest from your travels."

I took her hand in my own, bringing it up to press the back of her hand to my forehead, initiating the Greeting of Athame, pulsing an impression of _friendship_ , _greeting_ , and _honor_ in the momentary meld the contact initiated. Without even a moment's hesitation at the novelty of the non-asari initiating such a salutation, she did the same to my hand, sending me a pulse of _welcome_ and _respect_. There was no hint of suspicion or nervousness in the meld, but I did not expect such from such an experienced asari leader such as herself.

T'Ravt offered a disarming smile that contained a _hint_ of amusement at our transaction.

 _A good start._

"May I present my companions?" I said, turning to gesture to Elam first. "Elam'Koris vas Qwib Qwib, of the Quarian Confederacy." Elam offered a deep quarian bow, to which the asari warlord nodded graciously.

"My congratulations to your father, Elam'Koris," T'Ravt said in greeting. "Upon both his new position, and the Migrant Fleet's _finally_ finding a home of their own, after so many years of exile."

The Terminus Quarian made some kind of choking noise, one that earned her a look from Kean and the other occupants of the dais. The batarian priest actually nudged her arm with his own while giving a very impressive disapproving glare.

"Thank you, my Lady," Koris replied to T'Ravt, neither of whom had acknowledged the distraction. "He sends his own salutations, and thanks you for your continued friendship with our people…"

 _Now_ he shot a glance at the unmasked member of the dais. I could tell that he was smiling under the helmet.

"…and our _kin_."

The seemingly innocuous statement actually caused the Terminus quarian to stiffen, and she would have taken a step forward if the priest hadn't thrown an arm in front of her.

"And Turro'le de Orroc, a High Seeker of the Raloi," I said, seeking to break the tension that had suddenly arisen in the room. The seven-foot tall Raloi spread his vestigial wings wide, the prehensile tips of the wing-feathers shifting from jet-black to brilliant read in a very impressive display of color.

"You are very welcome here, sir," T'Ravt said, her tone still gregarious and pleasant. "I confess, I have never met a Raloi before."

"Nor I a work of art, Lady," Turro said as he straightened from his Raloian curtsey.

T'Ravt's laugh sounded like tiny silver bells in the echoing hall. The tension, so thick a moment ago, eased. I smiled, both at the flattery, and with not a little of gratitude at the big Raloian for saying _exactly_ the right thing at the right time.

"They never told me Raloi were so _charming_ ," T'Ravt said, radiating an aura of genuine pleasure and amusement.

"They never told _me_ Asari were so beautiful, Lady Warlord," Turro answered shamelessly, his beaked head tilting heavily to the right.

T'Ravt positively _beamed_ at the shameless flirting, a hand coming to cover her face in a carefully calculated gesture.

"Such a _gallant_ young being," she said with another amused little laugh. "I'm afraid flattery will get you nowhere on Xentha, Sir Turro'le. However, I must insist you never stop trying."

"To hear, is to obey, my Lady," Turro answered with a deep nod of his head.

The turian general behind the Lady shifted uncomfortably.

"Oh, do forgive me," T'Ravt said, turning back to me and resuming her more regal air. "General Sulla Kaste, one of my most able military commanders."

"General," I acknowledged, folding my hands behind me and nodding, the turian general replying in-kind.

" _Reyja'krem_ Thul ul Aldaara of the Hegemony."

The batarian priest locked his hands together in a priestly batarian salutation.

" _Imperator_ ," he said, inclining his head _ever_ so slightly to the left.

"The Pillars Guide You, Teacher," I greeted in the batarian's language, my head inclining a polite degree to the right. His grin and slight bow seemed to indicate he appreciated the gesture.

"Trophy-Taker Voya'chi vas Xentha…"

The Terminus Quarian's posture seemed to desire, no, _beg_ to be _anywhere_ but here, but she managed the barest of nods in my general direction, her free hand coming up to touch her krogan-crest necklace. I nodded politely.

"And of course, you have already met Commander Cieran Kean," T'Ravt concluded.

Cieran Kean looked almost annoyed at my knowing his full name, but repeated the batarian greeting Thul had given me, his arms folded behind him in a warrior's stance, however. With his head tilted to the right, I noticed, faintly, _just_ barely hidden by the high collar…

 _Where those_ _bite_ _marks?_

My gaze flicked over to the batarian female behind him who had accompanied us from the docks and had been unable or unwilling to take her eyes off him for long.

 _Ahh._

 _Not his servant then._

 _Impressively progressive, for both parties._

I did notice, however, that his body language and head tilt communicated a batarian regard for an _equal_.

 _A challenge… indirectly so, but all the same…_

"Yes," I replied, "The Commander has been…a gracious host so far, and a true guide."

I shifted, inclining my head more obviously to the right, a gesture I remembered from Kelly and I's multiple meld-lessons on batarian culture before the Session on the Citadel. If I remembered correctly (or rather, if Kelly had remembered correctly), this demanded respect from a lesser rank. Kean met my gaze, but then I saw the warlord's expression darken beside me, for _just_ an instant. Kean, in a similar expression of annoyance, flicked his chin _momentarily_ in a left-ward direction.

 _That'll do_ , _I guess_?

"Will you take your seats?" T'Ravt continued, her smile and regal bearing once again in place. From seemingly out of nowhere, servants appeared, carrying chairs and couches, either, in the batarians' case, by hand, or, as the one or two asari handmaidens did, biotically. Within moments, the chairs and couches were repositioned in a circular arrangement, all on the raised dais. I took the seat the warlord indicated, with my companions on each side of me. She resumed her place on her couch, her… _advisors…court members?..._ taking their places slightly behind and to either side. I noticed that Kean had been placed beside Miss Voya with a silent flick of the warlord's eyes, with the Kean's batarian partner/mate sitting in a plainer chair behind them. Voya looked sullen, but continued to stare at Elam who, to his credit, met her gaze unflinchingly.

 _If looks could kill_ ….

Turro, on the other hand, was grinning (or the Raloian equivalent of it) at the batarian priest opposite him, who met his gaze politely.

"Would you, as my guest here, Imperator, care to begin?" Lady T'Ravt asked, reclining back into her couch.

 _Seriously, what was it with Asari queens and couches?_

"I will, unless of course, you would like to claim Aggrieved Status," I said, sticking closely to asari protocol.

T'Ravt inclined her head in a slight nod.

"Very gracious of you," she replied, "And yes, I would like to claim Aggrieved Status."

"Very well, madam: Proceed."

"You have recently attacked and captured the Stormwall Shipyards from Hienrich die Waffe, have you not?"

"We have, madam," I confirmed, fully aware that T'Ravt probably had a more accurate count of our forces currently occupying Stormwall than I did.

Well, maybe. Rachni are kinda hard to count to the untrained eye.

"die Waffe was funding raids on volus colonies," I explained. "My hand was forced." I held my hands open in a disarming gesture. "I cannot stand by while my allies are attacked and threatened by upstart buccaneers and petty bandits."

The political duel had begun, and Ko'le had fired the first salvo. Kevin's knowledge of the games would serve us little here, so I tried to largely let Ko'le take the lead, with his experience as _Seneschal_ of an Empire that once spanned the known galaxy.

T'Ravt merely nodded in agreement.

"die Waffe overreached, and learned the consequences of such rashness," she said dismissively, as if it were the most natural thing the in world for me to oust one of her one-time allies. "However, I had contracted with die Waffe for two dreadnought-class ships, with full payment in advance."

"The _Blood Tide_ and the _Riptide_ ," I answered. "Stormwall-class capital ships. They are in a low orbit above Xentha as we speak."

"Are they really?" T'Ravt feigned surprise.

 _She's known the exact locations of those ships ever since they left Stormwall drydock. And if not then, then most certainly she learned of it in the THREE days of Sub-light Travel it took to get here from the Mass Relay._

"And what do you intend to do with _our_ ships?" General Kaste asked, offended indignation _just_ beneath his civil tone.

"Why, return them to their rightful owner, of course, general!" I added a hint of shock that he would _suggest_ anything otherwise. Kean shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and I saw Thul bracing himself mentally.

T'Ravt's eyes flickered with amusement. "And what exactly would that _cost_ their rightful owner, Imperator?"

I transferred my look of calculated surprise towards her.

"You said it yourself, my lady," I said, keeping the tone of obviousness in my voice. "You have already paid for them in full: You owe me _nothing._ "

For the first time since we entered the room, I saw Yan T'Ravt genuinely surprised. It flashed only momentarily in her eyes, but it was unmistakably there, all the same, replaced quickly by that cold, calculating, assessing eyes. Kean, Kaste, and the others in the room, however, were not so subtle in their surprise. Voya sat up from her bored, slumped pose, and the warlord's entire entourage shared a look that clearly asked, "Is this guy serious?!"

Kean on the other hand, brought up a free hand to touch his braided goatee. He now had the same kind of assessing look in his eyes that T'Ravt had. He'd been just as surprised as the rest of them, to be sure, but then his suspicion had redoubled.

 _Cleverer than the others, this one. Easy to see why T'Ravt keeps him around._

"You would _give_ them to me?" T'Ravt asked, maintaining a trace of incredulity in her voice.

"They are not mine to own, any more than Xentha is, my Lady," I answered.

 _WOW, Ko'le, there was enough double meaning in that sentence to keep her busy awhile_ …

 _That IS the general idea, Kevin…_

"The hulks are being maintained by skeleton crews," I explained. "As soon as your men can take possession, they will shuttle back over to my ship, leaving both vessels in your hands, to do with as you see fit."

A pregnant silence hung in the air for several seconds. Then T'Ravt leaned forward, slowly and elegantly, the definition of grace and poise.

"It would seem the stories about you are _true_ , Imperator," she said, the suspicion in her tone replaced with admiration. "You are a warrior of honor, indeed."

She looked straight into my eyes for another few seconds, as if trying to decide on something. Then she leaned back, apparently satisfied.

"I will be frank with you, Imperator: you have held my interest for some time," she admitted, in a way that communicated _anything but_ frankness to the trained eye, "But now you have my full attention. You did not come all this way to give me a gift of ships: What is it exactly that you want me to do for you?

I nodded in acceptance of the compliment. "You honor me with your frankness, Madam," I replied. "I must reply in kind."

 _You are fooling no one with your games, T'Ravt._

"You know that the Conclave is seeking to secure our territories in the Terminus Systems?"

T'Ravt scoffed, slightly. "There's not a being in this _galaxy_ who is not aware of that, Imperator. You capture of Cartagena and Tortuga were definitely not overlooked by _anyone_ in this sector, along with any of your other moves to… _secure_ …. your colonies in the Terminus," she said, the sarcasm returning to her voice.

"Warlord Gormak's death resulted in a power vacuum the Conclave could not allow," I said simply, as if that explained everything. Of course, we _both_ knew that every warlord had descended on the remnants of Gormak's criminal empire before the salarian was even cold on his deathbed, _including_ Aria T'Loak, Heinrich die Waffe, and yes, Yan T'Ravt.

"Several of Gormak's lieutenants have turned from their former master's piratical ways," I explained, again, knowing full well this was more than likely old news to her. "They have accepted Conclave commissions, and retained the command of their ships and forces."

T'Ravt nodded, doing an impressive job of appearing to hear this all for the first time. "I see," she replied, "But why share this information with me?"

"Because I would make you the same offer, Lady Warlord."

 _Every_ single member of the room stiffened, slowly turning their eyes to gauge their mistress' reaction. T'Ravt's lips pursed for a moment, then she cocked her head slightly to the right.

"With Gormak gone, and die Waffe broken and driven to the Dark Rim," I continued, seeing the impact of my words, "You are the possessor of the largest fleet and territory in the Terminus Systems."

We both knew that claim was arguable at best, but she made no move to contradict me.

"If you were to grant the Conclave the honor of your support, I and the other members of the Circle feel that it would bring an unprecedented level of stability to this sector of space. Your own merchants and trade ships, hitherto dependent on locations such as Cartagena and Tortuga, or even Omeaga, would be given access to markets across the Volus Tradeways."

T'Ravt nodded, and I could see her calculating the economic effects that would have on her coffers. I continued:

"As undisputed governor of the region, you would be accountable only the Circle itself. Conclave courts would provide justice to your people, Conclave schools an education to your subjects. As a full Conclave member, the entire might of the Conclave Battle Fleet would be ready to assist you fend off former rivals and secure your trade routes. Information and technology would be freely traded between the Conclave members."

I could see the wheels turning in her head, all going a mile a minute.

"You would secure an eternal legacy for you and your heirs after you," I concluded. "You would usher in a Golden Age of the Terminus: an era of unprecedented prosperity. An Age…of Peace."

No one made any answer to my words, the Terminus members of the dais waiting to take their cue from T'Ravt. She slowly stood to her feet, an action they followed, as did I and my companions. She turned and took a few paces to the edge of the dais, looking out over the hall.

"You have given me much to consider, Imperator, and made an impressive argument for your case," she replied graciously. "But you are asking me to decide the futures of over 70 billion lives of my people. And that is not a decision I can make in an afternoon."

She sighed, and turned back to face me.

"The hour is late, and I must take counsel with my advisors. However, you would bring me much joy if you were to join me for a banquet tomorrow. Here, at my residence. There you will have my answer in full."

I nodded my head in a courteous bow. The offer was nothing less than what I expected: designed to stall for maximum time, while keeping me on the hook long enough to stay around.

"I would be my pleasure, my Lady," I answered, making my words as pleasant as I could. "I eagerly await our reunion."

T'Ravt smiled, and extended her hand to me again. This time, the exchange of feelings was _hope_ and _solidarity_ on my part, and _reassurance_ and _friendship_ on hers.

"Your honor-guard will escort you back to your ship," she said gracefully. "Commander Kean is unfortunately called away on other matters."

"Of course," I said, nodding at Kean, who returned the gesture. I gave similar salutations to the other members of T'Ravt's entourage. _Reyja'krem_ Thul walked up and extended a hand.

"The Pillars of Heart and Strength guide your Path from here, Imperator," he said with a priestly intonation, switching back to the batarian language.

"And with you," I answered. "Does not the Pillars say, 'The surest shield is the back of a friend?'"

Thul's reaction was another grin and slight bow.

 _Probably surprised that another non-batarian has even read the Pillars_.

As we walked back towards the opening door, I turned back to the dais.

"If I may crave one more indulgence, my Lady?" I asked, as if suddenly remembering something.

T'Ravt turned and smiled.

"For you, Imperator? Name it."

"Master Elam here has a message for the Quarian Elder, of Miss Chi's people."

The young quarian in question tensed, her hand moving towards her concealed weapon again. Elam stood next to me, bowing low again.

"I promised my father I would deliver the message in person, my Lady," he said with profound respect. "May we crave your goodwill enough for an introduction?"

T'Ravt's smile turned to a look of cold amusement.

"Of course," she said. "Commander Kean and Miss Chi will be at the _Normandy_ tomorrow morning. They will be glad to escort you to the Old City."

Judging by the looks on both their faces, it looked like the _VERY_ last thing Kean or Voya wanted to do tomorrow morning was guide us to the Quarian elder, much less be happy about it.

But I knew they would be there. Their dislike for us was outweighed by the fear T'Ravt wielded.

"A thousand thanks, Madam," I replied, "the Blessings of the Goddess go with thee."

T'Ravt nodded at the asari blessing as we turned to leave. As the giant doors swung shut behind us and we resumed our journey through the meandering halls of the palace, Elam visibly exhaled next to me.

"Well," he said, "That… _didn't_ go horribly, I guess."

* * *

 ***CIERAN KEAN***

""Well." I exhaled as I leaned into the aircar's cushions. I couldn't really enjoy them with my armor on, but it was the principle of the thing. "That was amusing."

"Wasn't it?" The Lady Warlord mused, a glass of wine already perched in her hand. "Yet progress was made and questions were answered."

General Kaste shook his weathered head from where he was seated across from me in the stretched luxury vehicle. Apart from myself, he was the only other close adviser present in the back cabin, with everyone else taking other vehicles to T'Ravt's actual palace complex. The Lady Warlord wasn't so idiotic as to give a foreign head of state access to her primary command center, after all, though I don' think that he'd noticed that she'd simply co-opted Kaste's personal mansion for the meeting.

When the General spoke, his voice was more than a little tired. "Forgive me, Lady, but I still find such talk to be tiring and pointless."

"It was tiring." She admitted quietly. "He did not understand how to properly state what he desired, nor was he prepared to negotiate with me. More irritatingly, he did not seem to have a plan beyond giving his speech and then observing my reaction."

"Yeah..." I frowned. "I think he expected you to ask for more time, but I can't figure out if he was simply starting from the lowest possible negotiating position as a tactic or if he was earnest about his offer."

"He was." T'Ravt sounded convinced, her tone of voice implying that she'd found it just as insulting as I'd thought she had at the time. "He entirely believed that that was the best position to begin from, and that there was a chance that I would accept."

I could hardly begin to fathom that someone could be that stupid, especially considering the levels that this guy was supposed to operate at. He'd proven he could manipulate the Council like an orchestral maestro, but his first time dealing with a major warlord and _that_ was his best initial play?

"His preparation was clearly insufficient." The Warlord continued. "At least not on the terms that beings such as he and I operate. Had he not brought my vessels with, I would have already considered alternative options."

My lips twisted a little as I shook my head. "I still don't think we could pull it off."

Her dark eyes flicked in my direction. "Explain."

"Killing him would be simple enough, yes." Especially since the idiot had brought his personal ship down along with the Pillar of Knowledge alone knew how many of his inner-circle on board. The charges set within the docking bay were grossly overkill, at my orders, and every-one of the thirty plus fortresses surrounding the city had their active sensors ready to go and pointed right at that area.

Even if his pilot was good enough to boost them out before the hanger went up, dodging GARDIAN lasers at this range was mathematically impossible. They'd be shredded to pieces long before the fleet in orbit even had to scramble to intercept. Which they were poised to do anyway, on the off chance that everything went wrong.

"The problem is what do we do _after_." I sighed. "The Conclave's fleet could take yours in any kind of a straight fight, so you'd have to shift to a strike and fade strategy. Which might prove annoying for them in the short term, but long term... their numbers are going to win out. Plus it would leave all of your garden worlds, including Xentha, open to invasion."

"Which we could defeat." Kaste growled decisively. "I would take our veterans against any of those soft-skinned races he's allied beneath him."

"For how long?" I asked. "With the Rachni showing up..."

The Turians' mandibles quivered for a moment before he relaxed and shook his head. "I could hold Xentha and Celthani against the last Krogan Emperor even if he had the entire Justicar Order as his shock brigade and an endless legion of Rachni at his beck and call. But I could not hold Redcliffe, Antiva, or Anderfels at the same time."

Of course, that was assuming that anyone would be stupid enough to even try to attack Celthani conventionally. I had no idea if the Imperator's ship had detected the three concentric rings of fortresses hidden within the mountains surrounding the city, but I had to assume that they would. Any _sane_ being would just bombard the city and flatten the mountains themselves with dreadnought rounds rather than invade it, simply because killing every man, woman, and child within would probable result in fewer overall casualties.

The Hierarchy would. So would the Hegemony. But the Conclave... wasn't either of those things. They were 'civilized' beings who believed in things like good and evil, and honor that meant something beyond keeping your word and repaying favors owed.

The idiots.

It was, at least theoretically, possible that we could goad them into invading Xentha itself and expending waves upon waves of beings against our guns. But while the inbred Quarians, now of Ilos, and the Elcor might balk at such casualties, something told me that the other Protheans that had woken up wouldn't be terribly bothered. No, if we were going to win a war it would have to be fast, brutal, and we'd need a lot of fucking help.

"It _might_ be possible." I allowed, glancing at the Warlord. "But almost everything would have to go right on the first attempt, we'd need all of the Warlords who are left to jump in, and even then we're relying on a lot of guesswork."

The regal Asari leaned back into the cushions, her eyes lidded as she mused. "Elaborate, General."

Kaste let out a whistling, Turian sigh, but nodded. "Killing the Imperator while he is here would decapitate the Conclave and likely enrage them into rushed action. If we combined all four of our fleets, and rushed them to the Stormwall Yards, we might be able to take them intact if we coordinate with what's left of Die Waffe's fleet."

T'Ravt frowned but nodded slightly. "That could be sufficient to bring Aria into the battle, if I promise to relinquish the yards back to her ally."

"Sederis would also have to join in." I pointed out. "To shut down the Illium relay. That could stop reinforcements from coming through Citadel space from that direction. Problem is that we don't have anything that could close all three relays to the Traverse, and even if we _did_ there's still whatever forces they have at Ilos and even in the Veil."

"Cessa is absorbing the pirates and warlords fleeing the Traverse." Kaste argued back. "She could be goaded into action, and if we could also align the Hegemony-"

"Too many." The Warlord interrupted us, her tone one of finality. "Too many factors already, and you are only in the opening stages of a conflict. Such a plan is not viable, not on its own. We have only two possible scenarios moving forwards: Either arrange for the strongest possible position within the Conclave, or drag these proceedings while we await new developments."

"Can't do the first." I murmured. "You know that. Sacred Pillars, he all but made it clear that we'd be subject to their petty little laws with his bit about justice. That would shut down the drug trade, the slave trade, the pirate groups still operating out of the Cove... the Quarians would revolt over not being able to hunt anymore, and everyone else would follow them."

"And that is merely within Celthani." Her haughty expression cracked slightly, revealing an almost bone-deep weariness. "My vassals would tie weights to me and hurl me into the oceans before the first sunset. Holding back the tide is always an exercise in futility, but it seems that we must make the effort."

So the plan remained much as it had since the Conclave had first offered to negotiate with her: Stall for as long as possible and try to pick the appropriate path through the swirling sands.

"What do you need from us?" I asked respectfully.

Navy covered lips pressed together for a moment. "First, your impressions of the young Imperator and his escort."

"He's ignorant, dangerously naive, and possibly an imbecile." I replied promptly, my words causing Kaste to choke out a quiet laugh while the Lady Warlord gave me an amused little smile. "As far as his escorts go... I'm really not sure. Koris didn't strike me as much of a fighter, neither did the bird... I really don't know why he brought them."

"It is a question." She murmured, "Though the Raloi was properly polite. Perhaps there is hope for its species."

I gave her a slight rolling shrug of a shoulder. "Maybe, but it was tall and looked to be fairly fragile. I can't imagine he'd stand up well in a firefight."

"If it is brought with to the Old District tomorrow," Kaste shook his head. "You may very well find out."

Muscles shifted as my face twisted into a grimace. "I suppose that's why he brought the Migrant with, though what he's hoping to accomplish I have no idea."

"You already stated the reason." T'Ravt gave me a small little smile, "He is naive and honestly believes that they will be willing to listen."

He was to be crushingly disappointed then. "It is strange that the Migrant didn't try and educate him."

"Yes..." She mused over another sip of wine. "The Raloi might be forgiven, but the Migrant should have known better. And he is known to have a far greater array of supporting personnel than merely the pair of them."

"Perhaps he intimidates them." Kaste twitched his mandibles as he mulled it over. "Or perhaps they believed him to know more than he actually did."

Both would be possible. Especially if he was as young as he looked.

"Although the Migrant did wince on multiple occasions." The General continued, cocking his head slightly as he visibly went through his memories. "Though the mask made it difficult to read him. I don't think he knew what his master was going to say in advance."

"No." T'Ravt agreed quietly. "I don't believe that he did either. General? Your impressions?"

The Turian let out a quiet hum before speaking. "He held himself well, as one used to power. Physically he would not be out of place amongst a crowd of veteran soldiers. His words, however... I must agree with Kean. His words were those of an idealistic boy, one from Citadel space at that."

I snorted in bemusement at the reminder of some of the crap he'd talked about. An age of justice? Of _peace_? The Terminus had been a war-torn mess for better than twelve hundred years, just as the Traverse had been for the centuries prior to that. And that was generally how we liked it. Did he _really_ think that we _wanted_ his versions of peace and quiet, that the Warlord would accept an offer that would put her at the same levels as Gormack's old lieutenants?

If it had been anyone else I would have thought it to be just a negotiating tactic, something to put the Warlord off of her guard. But he'd sounded genuinely earnest, like we should be fucking thrilled to be offered a subordinated position in his little empire.

"The reminds me." The Warlord's soft voice broke me from my thoughts. "Kean, the Batarian saying that he offered to Thul?"

I barked out a laugh. "Taken hilariously out of context. 'The surest shield is the back of a friend' refers to the fact that, if nothing else, they're good to have around as meat shields. He's lucky that Thul is personable enough to have not taken offense. Though really, I can't say I'm surprised he didn't understand what he was saying, his accent..."

"Atrocious." She agreed. "His Thessian was passable, but his attempts to speak the lowborn tongue made him sound like a lowborn slaver out on the hunt."

Kaste chuckled drily. "Tomorrow promises to be entertaining to observe. Did you have further orders, my lady?"

She nodded regally. "Yes. You will send a general call to my vassals, on Xentha and off, to meet in my palace in eight days. They will be afforded the minimum amount of information required for them to understand. You are then to gather the other senior generals and all four fleet admirals, I expect fully refined contingency plans if war with the Conclave does begin."

"We have a few." He nodded politely. "But we will dust them off and find room for improvement."

"Excellent." She paused to sip from her wine glass. "You will also draw out the old operational plans for action against every warlord still operating in the Terminus, minor and major. I will be sending out envoys if I am able to secure at least some freedom of action. Those who will join me will escape the Conclave. Those who will not..."

Would be invaded, crushed, and absorbed before the Conclave could try and move in like they had on Tortuga and in the Stormwall.

"And myself?" I asked. "Do I get to _not_ play tour guide again?"

"You will do as instructed." The Warlord replied, giving my a wintry smile. "But you will also learn what you can about the man, evaluate if he is a target you could eliminate. I do not expect him to succeed in whatever plan he might have concerning the Quarians, but if you see an opportunity to ensure failure..."

I could eliminate anyone given sufficient time and motivation, but she already knew that. So instead I merely bowed my head respectfully. "It'll be annoying, but you're paying double my fee to keep me on retainer. After that's done with?"

"You will resume your prior mission." She supplied, her lips curled a little. For some reason my slight irreverence for her position always seemed to amuse her, despite the fact that she wouldn't tolerate such talk from anyone else. Probably because I was very careful to never cross the line into anything like open disrespect. "Locate the Warrior, eliminate him, and deliver his remains to Cessa with my compliments and an invitation to meet with me."

"Understood. Do I get Thul still?"

There was a momentary pause before she shook her head. "No. Reyja'krem ul Aldaara will have a new mission in the Hegemony, I believe."

Meaning he was about to become her formal ambassador to one of the various factions trying to revitalize that failed state. Probably Shaaryak and his traditionalists, they seemed to have more practical long-term goals.

"That'll leave me down a man." I murmured, more to myself than her. "Is that Asari Reyja'krem, Wesh? Weshan?"

"Callada Weshan." She supplied. "And she is still employed as a biotic instructor at the Academy."

Meaning she was unavailable. Well, I'd just have to make do with just Rane and Voya then, or I'd have to check to see if there were any freelancers available who could be trusted. A few years ago that wouldn't have been a problem, but lately... as the Conclave expanded, the pool of good help was shrinking as they were killed, driven underground, or hired by one of the PMC fronts like Black Sun.

The remainder of the trip proceeded largely in silence, the Warlord allowing herself to unwind, and Kaste and I knowing better than to disturb her. He passed the time by firing off several messages, probably working out the logistics of getting crews to board the new ships gliding into orbit. While he did that, I started to work on the arrangements that would be required to bring the Imperator out to the Old District the following morning.

To say that Elder Shar was irritated when he responded to my message was a bit of an understatement, and his mood only seemed to worsen when I indicated that the Warlord herself had made it clear that this was something she wanted to happen. He eventually acceded, but made it clear that it was only because of the debts owed b his people to the Lady that he was doing so and that he considered the entire affair to be a waste of time in advance.

I couldn't exactly refute that considering that I felt the exact same way.

After perhaps twenty minutes of travel, the subtle whine of the engines shifted in pitch as the car slowed, settling onto the landing pad protruding from the sheer face of the mountain. Emerging from the vehicle first, I gave the elegant archway ahead a cursory glance to ensure that the coast was clear before standing aside to let the Warlord pass.

She did so with her customary grace, idly trailing a hand across my armored shoulder as she moved past. Taking the silent dismissal for what it was, I turned away once she and Kaste had moved past and entered the mountain halls. For their part, my companions were exiting their own car, Voya's actions quick and irritated even as Rane worked to keep pace with the small alien woman.

"That smug, condescending _asshole._ " The Quarian all but growled as she stormed past me, "Who the _fuck_ does he think he is?"

I glanced at Rane in time to see her upper eyes roll back, her expression becoming long-suffering as the pair of us moved to follow Voya. "The Imperator or the Migrant rep?"

"The prissy little inbred _keshin."_ She spat as he we passed through the archway and into the palace proper. "Calling us _kin_ , as if we had anything in common with that weak willed group of infants who'd sooner suckle from that human's _dick_ than stand on their own fucking legs."

"That." Rane murmured quietly, her head shaking. "Is an image I did not need to consider."

"Agreed." I sighed as I shook my head. "Voya, are you going to make it through tomorrow without trying to kill him?"

Her head shook hard enough to make her short, stiff hair rustle in an instinctive display of her anger and irritation. "Yes." Her voice came out as a low mutter as we walked. "Provided that smug _bosh'tet_ doesn't start anything."

"Provided he doesn't start anything physical." I stressed. "If it's just word games you need to keep your head."

The petite little Quarian let out a tiny growl, but forced herself to nod. "Fine. But I'm going to one of the palace bars and getting very, very drunk tonight."

"So long as you're sober in the morning, you can do whatever you like tonight." I told her. She nodded again, before all but darting down a side-hall as we walked past it. I slowed my pace enough to call after her, "Awake at six! I want it over with early!"

Her right hand rose in a rude gesture, making me snort as she vanished around a distant corner. That left Rane and I more or less alone, the lowborn woman easily keeping pace with my long strides as I resumed walking and started heading towards the guest quarters we were sharing.

After several moments of silence, Rane quietly offered a few words. "That was... an interesting meeting, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." I replied, shaking my head as I spoke. "I didn't expect him to be that soft. I mean, half the stories we hear about him... definitely not what I anticipated. And I don't think he even realized why we were present instead of her usual coterie of advisory."

At the very least I'd expected a larger reaction to my own presence. I was, after all, the Warlord's principle trigger man when she wanted somebody dead. Sending me to greet him instead of a bureaucrat had been a calculated threat that had apparently gone right over his head. Further, keeping me and my people around her in addition to the Talon team had been intended to show that she was ready for even the slightest hint of treachery.

Instead we'd gotten... despite my words to T'Ravt, I still wasn't entirely sure _what_ we'd gotten. My gut said he was a stupidly powerful young man who was still very much a _young_ man. Idealistic, naïve, and entirely out of his depth dealing with Terminus monsters such as ourselves.

But how could someone like that do everything he'd supposedly done? It was an irritating contradiction.

"Will you need me with tomorrow?" Rane asked as we entered one of the many guest wings. "If nothing else I could attempt to help keep Voya calm."

"That would be appreciated." I admitted. "And a few extra sets of eyes to watch the crowd in the District couldn't hurt either."

Her copper toned lips twisted a bit. "That is not going to be a pleasant walk for anyone. I don't suppose the Elder will be meeting us near the wall?"

"Main hall." I replied. "I'm going to tell the Elder to have a route cleared for us, but..."

She let out a quiet, whistling sigh through her teeth. "There may still be attempts on the migrant."

"May? _Will_ be, at least one or two."

My lover grimaced again, probably because she knew that was probably an understatement. While the Lady Warlord had made a public broadcast across the city, indicating that our 'guests' were here under her oath of safe passage, there were always idiots who thought they were special for some fucked up reason. And that was when things were fairly normal. To my knowledge a Migrant Quarian had never even entered the Old District in its entire history, at least not willingly.

"I wonder what they'll think of the walls." I mused, slowing as we neared our suite. Reaching a hand up, I quickly tapped out the passcode before stepping aside to let Rane enter first.

"If nothing else, their reactions should be interesting." Rane offered as she threw her coat onto a couch, the heavy armor hidden inside of it clattering as it landed. "But that is for tomorrow. What shall we do tonight?"

"We should probably start going through all of the information we have on the Warrior." My right foot shifted forwards as I spoke, my arms crossing high on my chest as I lifted my chin a bit up and to the right. "Or we could take advantage of the fact that Voya is out drinking rather than being here with us."

Rane's skin darkened a little as her lower eyes lidded, her own head turning away so that she could lean it to the left. Her back arched ever so slightly, working to draw my gaze up and down her frame. The effect was somewhat ruined given that she was still in armor, but I still prowled a little closer to her as she spoke. "What about tomorrow? Don't you need to... prepare..."

Her voice trailed off as I closed the distance, leaning down to place a soft bite onto the side of her neck. A few breaths later I let go, enjoying the sound of her quickened breathing. "After."

It was nearly midnight by the time I called Elder Shar to arrange everything. His initial fury at the delay was cut-off when he realized I wasn't wearing a shirt, and that I had medigel soaked bandages on both sides of my neck. A bit of good natured cackling and ribbing had followed before he'd agreed to do what he could to make sure that our 'guests' survived getting in and out of his district to meet with him.

Those arrangements completed, I'd collapsed into bed with Rane, her warm body pressed against my side as she slept. My last thoughts before I joined her in oblivion were of idle wonder of what tomorrow would bring.


	4. Chapter 4: A New Day

***KO'LE*  
CSV NORMANDY**

"She's stalling for time."

Elam's declaration was one of frustration and impatience.

"Of course she is, sah," Pyke said incredulously. "She's ruled these 'ere lands as a queen for more than a century. Everything she has, she fought tooth and claw to get. You think she was just gonna _throw_ 'erself at us and beg to be a part of the Conclave?"

"If she's smart, she will, before we take our offer elsewhere and she's the one who ends up in the cold," Jane said, looking up from studying the holographic map of the city that we had pulled up on the main display in the briefing room. "The Conclave is here, and it's here to stay. We could do to Xentha what we've done to Tortuga, or Cartagena."

 **"I wouldn't be so sure, Jane,"** EDI counted, her holographic avatar coming online. She was dressed in a Conclave uniform, looking very professional. **"The Conclave's main battles in the Terminus have been space-based conflicts, usually centered around space-stations, or an orbiting structure such as Stormwall. Our campaigns on Sanctum was a relatively small-scale invasion, considering the planet's limited habitable-zone. Xentha on the other hand..."**

The topographical layer of the map disappeared, revealing a complex series of bunkers, gun emplacements, and a myriad of other defensive networks.

"EDI," I asked, "did you… _hack_ T'Ravt's military defense network?"

 **"No, Dad,"** EDI said, rolling her eyes, **"Even I'm not that good. Her military network and servers are too heavily protected, behind wall after wall of code. The moment I touched the first, they'd have teams of mechanics and technicians to purge me from the system."**

She smiled, deviously.

 **"So I simply hacked the power stations and gained access to T'Ravt's power grid.** _ **This**_ **is the dedication of power to the city and the surrounding areas."**

"Oh. My. God," Jane marveled.

 _"Keelah."_

"Neatly done, EDI," I said admiringly. EDI turned bright yellow to a darker golden tone, simulating a blush.

 **"Just doing my job, Father."**

"The mountain," I observed. "It's been almost entirely hollowed out. It's her own personal fortress."

 **"It's not alone,"** EDI said. " **There are at least nineteen other redoubts surrounding the city. Probably more hooked to plants that I don't have access to."**

"It would take an army of _millions_ to take this city," Jane said, still trying to take in the sight of the labyrinth of lines and colors showing the various power distribution of Celthani.

"Not if coordinated with organized bombing runs," Pyke said, his hand going to his gun. "Wipe out the whole bally lot of 'em before they could fire a shot."

"Nothing doing," Joker objected, leaning against the table. "See whatever's drawing _that_ much power here, here, and here?" he asked pointing to several areas on the mountain brighter than the others. "That's gotta be anti-aircraft batteries. GUARDIAN lasers, or I'll dance a jig. They'd wipe out most of your fighters and bombers before they ever made it to their targets."

"Besides, let's not forget: there are innocent men, women, and children in this city," I replied, shaking my head. "I'm not about to wipe out an entire city just to gain a single planet."

"You may not have a choice, _Imperator_." Elam still had a tone of disbelief and skepticism.

"Elam," I said, turning to the quarian. "We fought off a Reaper from the Citadel, and delivered your people a world of their very own, where they had been wanderers for three centuries. I came here to win allies, not to win a war."

"From the looks of things, that's exactly what T'Ravt is preparing for," the young quarian replied. "She did not gain her territory by being a pacifist."

 **"She has been gathering weapons, ships, and firepower,"** EDI confirmed. **"Four of the ten capital ships on the Blue Sun fleet roster are now in her armada."**

"How did _that_ happen?" Kolyat asked. "I thought Mr. Massani and the Black Suns took over everything. And what he didn't, General Blake sure did."

"Not everything," I replied. "Darner Vosque and few other loyalists took their ships and ran to Redcliffe, trying to claim the Blue Sun strongholds there for either Kuril or Jedore."

"T'Ravt attacked before we could," Pyke explained. "Took advantage of the chaos to seize the planets and installations closest to her territory. Dem fine, strategy. Flawless, I daresay."

"Her involvement turned out to be beneficial to us in the long run," I explained. "They were besieged at Redcliffe, so they could not reinforce Kuril's fleet at Erinle. We scattered he and Jedore's fleets there, and they're still hiding somewhere today."

"Sanctum would have been a tougher nut to crack, too, if she hadn't seized the eezo caches at Merrekesh," Pyke explained.

"So it seems," Turro said, still putting all the pieces together, "..that T'Ravt profited from the Black Sun coup almost as much as the Conclave did."

I nodded in confirmation. "And now with Gormak's empire fragmenting, and die Waffe reeling from the Battle of Stormwall, she has moved quickly to try and cement her place as the strongest of the warlords in the Terminus."

"What about Queen Aria's fleet?" Turro asked. "If those two asari were to ally themselves with some of the remaining powers, they might prove to be a coalition that might give us cause for concern."

I shook my head.

"Aria is not going to risk provoking the Conclave," I explained. "die Waffe was her main source of manufacturing and the main customer of her eezo: the source of both her strength and her revenue. We've already hammered out an understanding that we will keep supplying her with ships and buying the product of her eezo mines."

I smiled.

"We're her biggest rival, and also her biggest customer. If she were to move against us, she'd be cutting herself off at the knees. Sederis and the Eclipse Golden Fleet won't commit to any scheme of T'Ravt's without Aria's support. And without the two of them…" I shrugged.

"What about the Conquest shipyards?" Jane asked. "Doesn't die Waffe still hold those?"

 **"He does,"** confirmed EDI, **"But if die Waffe is smart (and there is copious evidence to show that he is), he will scrounge what ships and replacement parts he can from the shipyards and scuttle them. The Conquest shipyards above Y-328 are smaller, and more isolated, but not enough. Their location is too widely known, and he knows this. Even now, General Blake and the 9th Battle Fleet is preparing to attack the structure from our FOB in the Dark Rim. I strongly suspect they will find the shipyards ruined and die Waffe gone."**

I nodded, arms crossed as a hundred different plans crossed my mind. But for now, I had to focus on the moment.

"What did you find on the human who escorted us to the palace?" I asked. "Cieran Kean?"

EDI brought up a file, with a holographic picture of the human appearing in front of us.

 **"Cieran Kean: a human, raised by a batarian mother here on Xentha."**

"So _that_ explains it," I said. "Impressive: started as a slave, and ended up as a trusted advisor to the Warlord."

 **"** _ **Not exactly**_ **an advisor, Dad,"** EDI said, bringing up his military history. **"Kean really helped develop the heavy power armor utilized by T'Ravt's forces to devastating effect on Redcliffe. Over time, he has gained a reputation as one of the Warlords most effective troubleshooters and…operatives."**

"Assassin," Turro replied, stating Kean's less-diplomatic job description.

 **"Just so,"** EDI agreed. **"According to the article in** _ **Badass Weekly**_ **, it was his team that infiltrated the final stronghold in the last offensive in the campaign. They succeeded in assassinating Legate Darner Vosque, bringing an end to the campaign."**

The short video clip she brought up showed a human sitting cross-legged with the batarian priest Thul ul Aldaara. The pair sat next to one another, seeming to be mediating, even while artillery fire rained down all around them. Turro regarded the scene with genuine admiration, tilting his head far to the right. Then it went left with concern.

"It says much that _this_ is the man the Lady has accompanying you in the city, Imperator," he said.

"He's meant to be intimidating," I agreed. "A show of force of what the Lady Warlord is capable of. Each of the people in that chamber was there for a reason. Batarian, Quarian, Human, and Turian. She's telling me she has the support of many cultures, and many species. All of them formidable fighters, hunters, and apparently, assassins. But I've met worse."

I grinned wryly, images of Brutes and Cannibals filling my memories.

 **"They are not to be underestimated, however,"** EDI cautioned. " **Her fleet and her armies are now almost entirely composed of veteran fighters from the year-long campaign on Redcliffe. T'Ravt has been gathering the exiles of both our victories in the Terminus, and the Hegemony as well."**

"Isn't that batarian some kind of an exiled nobleman?" I asked.

 **"He is, in point of fact, a** _ **Reyja'krem**_ **,"** EDI clarified, **"a position denoting that he has lost his master. The human equivalent would be a master-less** _ **Samurai,**_ **or** _ **Ronin**_ **. He is still considered high class, but is only one of many such exiles who have found service with the Lady Warlord."**

 **"** She still does not have the numbers for a straight-up war, or the tech," I mused. "The _Queen's Voice_ alone could decimate any three of her capital ships in a head-on fight. _No one_ in her army or fleet has any experience fighting a Rachni sphere-craft. And with the Rachni occupying Stormwall and assisting at Irune, our capability to turn out ships has almost tripled the rate of any of her production centers."

"Nonetheless," Turro added, "the Lady has proven adept as setting herself up as the last alternative to joining the Conclave for many of the pirates and smaller despots of the Terminus. And at using assassins such as Master Kean to convince the more…hesitant of the hold-outs that joining her would be…beneficial to their longevity."

 **"Speak of the devil,"** EDI said, straightening up **, "He and two others have just arrived at the docking bay. They are walking down to the edge of the gangplank now."**

"Who are the two others?" I asked.

 **"A Terminus Quarian and a batarian female."**

"Miss Voya'Chi vas Xentha?" Turro asked.

" _Great…"_ Elam groaned.

"T'Ravt expressly _told us_ she would be here," I replied. "She doesn't exactly strike me as someone whose orders are ignored. Shall we go, then?"

"SAH," Pyke said, snapping to attention. "Request permission to accompany you on this foray!"

I hesitated. "I thought you said vorcha were not welcome here, Morrell."

"That I did, sah! Too true, too true," the Sergeant Major agreed. "But if you're taking Master Koris into the Old District, 'not welcome' will be the watch-word of the day. If violence ensues, I would prefer to be there to give them the old' one-two, one-two, wot?"

"If there is a chance for war," Turro said, "I will fetch my weapon."

"There shouldn't be any fighting," I maintained. "The Lady Warlord gave us her safe passage."

"And you _absolutely trust_ everyone in Celthani to respect that?" Jane asked.

 **"It does seem prudent to prepare for a possible hostile situation, given the Migrant Fleet's and Terminus Quarian's history, Dad,"** EDI said warily.

I took a deep breath in, somewhat exasperated.

"Alright, alright," I said. "Suit up. Let's not keep our Mr. Kean waiting _too_ long."

And so it was that when the four of us stepped off the _Normandy_ , we were all in full armor, rather than the dress robes we had worn the day before. Well, Elam, Pyke, and I were. Turro still sported the simple robe, but as he walked, the multiple layers of the garment revealed concealed shield nodes and tech-shield generators. Plus, he had his giant walking stick that was the weapon of his people. The way it had been described to me, I knew it folded into something akin to a bow and arrow setup, but I had yet to see it in action (or Turro, for that matter).

"Imperator," Kean greeted, looking my armor up and down. I could see his warrior's eye almost subconsciously looking for weak points and potential targeting areas.

"Commander," I replied.

I could see the amusement mixed with disgust in his face as he took in the sight of the fully armored vorcha behind me.

"You might consider keeping the vorcha here," he said, giving Pyke a sideways glance. "People tend to get nervous around them."

"Usually with good reason, sirrah," Pyke said to the human. "But I do believe I'll take my chances…"

If the vorcha has spontaneously sprouted a second head, Kean could not have been more surprised. He actually jerked slightly and his hand dropped to the heavy pistol on his belt. His companions weren't unaffected either. The female batarian's mouth actually fell open, and Voya'Chi actually took a step back, her hand moving towards the knives that she now openly sported on her belt.

"Commander Cieran Kean, Sergeant-Major Pyke Morrell," I introduced.

Pyke snapped his boots together, giving Kean a curt nod. Kean managed a nod in return, but his expression was clearly one of shock as he forced his hands away from his weapon.

Keeping on the subject of introductions, I turned to Kean's batarian companion.

"Forgive me," I said, switching to batarian and inclining my head slightly to the right, "but this is the second time you have accompanied me and my companions through your city, madam. However, I have yet to learn your name, Miss…?"

The batarian female's eyes went wide as she ducked her head deeply to the left.

"Rane'li ul Ben'mass, My Lord," she said respectfully.

I could see Kean bristling out of the corner of my eye, probably trying to figure out what motive a lord like I had introducing myself to his...lover?

Partner?

Slave?

The last possibility startled me, as I had not considered it before, and cast the relationship into a very different light indeed.

"Honored, Miss Rane'li," I said, as graciously as I could. I turned my attention back to Kean.

"Shall we go?"

Kean, apparently accepting the fact that Pyke was accompanying us, drew himself up, regaining his composure and his signature "guarded nonchalant" attitude. "Stay close," he said with an air of reservation. "Strangers aren't…exactly welcome in the District."

The skycar ride across the city towards the quarian district was tense. Whereas on the ship I had been worried about Voya's ability to be civil towards Elam, but the Terminus Quarian spent the entire ride glaring at Pyke. It did not go unnoticed.

"My all means, ma'am, keep staring," Pyke said, "I might do a trick."

I could see amusement creeping into the Sergeant Major's smile. Which granted, is not easy for the untrained eye to see for a vorcha.

"Watch your mouth, _pet_ ," the quarian sneered. "One of my people might think getting your teeth as a trophy are worth the effort to peel you out of that tin can you call armor."

The amusement faded from Pyke's expression as his hand slowly came down to rest on his lap, closer to the bladed SMG on his hip. Voya stiffened in response, like a coiled spring ready to release.

"I am a _warrior_ of the Conclave, marm," Pyke said, with a very even tone. "a Sergeant Major and Commander of the 1st Heshtok Irregulars. Call me 'pet' again, and you will find out exactly _why_."

"Voya." Kean's single-word warning was enough to silence whatever retort the quarian had opened her mouth to say. I, on the other hand, caught Morrell's eye, shaking my head slightly. The vorcha's hand moved away from the weapons, and the potential crisis was averted.

The car set us down after a thankfully-short ride, and I got my first good look of the Old District:

We were walking across a wide-open space that I instantly recognized as a killing field. Anyone wanting to sneak into the District would have to cross three hundred yards of open ground.

Nobody was approaching the quarians' territory without their knowing about it.

And judging by the bodies hanging from the three-story walls, nobody was _staying_ in their territory without their express permission. There was a variety of them, with several species represented and the corpses in various stages of decomposition. The worst was a pale human woman, the blood still dripping from where a hook had been shoved beneath her sternum. She couldn't have been dead for more than an hour.

Elam'Koris seemed slightly shaken at the grisly sight, his body language and expression doing everything _except_ looking at the macabre vision of the bodies, and the hand-painted placards hung around their necks:

 _'Slaver.'_

 _'Murderer.'_

 _'Thief.'_

 _Pirates, ye be warned_ , was the thought running through my head. Voya'Chi took the lead as we approached the main gate. A group of armed quarians came out to meet us, fanning out in a semi-circle around us.

"A huntress returns home after time afield," Voya'Chi spoke in a sharp, forceful tone. "Let the gates open, that she might rest in peace."

The guard nodded, bringing his right hand across his chest.

"Return to your home, honored huntress. Let our walls protect you while you rest."

Then he turned his head to us, and his eyes narrowed.

"Elder Shar is awaiting you in the main hall. Keep the vorcha on a leash, or you will be responsible for the damages he inflicts."

Pyke stiffened again. "Perhaps the vorcha will be responsible for his own actions…"

The captain of the guard recoiled like he'd been shot, his jaw hitting the floor as he regarded the unique vorcha.

"Yes, yes, the vorcha can _talk_ , Kedesh," Voya said dismissively. "We're all _so surprised._ Close your mouth before you trip over it. May we go through now?"

"Uh…um…" Kedesh seemed lost for words, but stepped aside slowly. Voya motioned us on, and we began the walk through the gates.

"Hey! Suit-Rat!"

 _Shit._

Elam turned to the young terminus quarian who had yelled the insult. The child, maybe sixteen years old, made what I only assumed was a horribly rude gesture in Khellish culture. Elam didn't even respond, just turning back to continue walking down the road.

As we walked, I could see curious quarians peeking out from windows, from shopfronts, and standing in doorways. They were dressed in _clothes_ , their manes of white hair free and flowing, recalling Ko'le's memories of the proto-quarian culture. The tall buildings rose on either side of us, archways and cross-walks connecting many of the upper stories, stretching over the road in a confusing labyrinth of streets and alleyways.

Here and there, I saw a quarian standing on the corner, gun in hand. From the looks they were getting and giving, I could tell they weren't usually there on a normal day.

 _Someone's gone to great trouble to ensure the Lady Warlord's guests go unhindered._

"We are drawing quite a crowd," I said to Kean in a low tone.

"When you bring a migrant, a vorcha, and giant bird in an all-quarian zone, you're going turn some heads," Kean replied with a dismissive tone.

The Main Hall was a single-story building laying in a courtyard, surrounded on all sides by taller ones. However, it was the first place I had seen full-sized trees, the clumps of green creating a park-like environment around the central building.

As we moved inside, there were more guards, and several individuals who were dressed as priests or priestesses. The long-robed quarians moved from tiny alcove to tiny alcove, incense burners in hand. Elam'Koris brought his right hand over his chest as we walked by, head bowed low in deep respect.

As we approached what appeared to be the main room, Kean turned back to me.

"It's best not to overcrowd the Elder," he said, "the fewer people in the room, the better."

I turned to my party.

"Turro, Sergeant-Major, wait here. This hopefully won't take long," I said.

"Voya, Rane, stay with them," Kean said to his two companions.

Voya looked annoyed, but slowly drew her knife and began twirling it in her hand.

"Don't worry," she said, her voice taking a darker tone than usual, "I can always use another trophy if the _vorcha_ steps out of line…"

Turro whirled, activating his staff. A sinister _HUMMMM_ sounded, and a purple arc appeared between the ends of the suddenly arched rod. A solid purple line appeared _just_ under the quarian trophy-taker's chin.

"You would be _dead_ before your stroke fell, quarian _,"_ the Raloi said, his previously calm and dulcet tones now harsh and grating, like nails on a chalkboard.

Alarm appeared on everyone's faces, and the quarian guards lowered their rifles in our direction. Voya's eye had widened at the Raloian's blindingly-quick reflexes, but her lips curled back in a snarl that showed her long canines. Her eyes were defiant, without a trace of fear.

"Treat my comrade with proper respect," Turro said, his eyes never leaving Voya's, "Or you and I will have… _words_ …"

"Turro," I now interjected, my voice assuming a calming tone. "Lower your weapon. We are _guests_ here."

"Not 'til she sheathes the blade, Imperator," Turro said quietly, but with respect. "There is murder in this one's eyes: a darkness and a terrible hunger."

"That tends to happen to brave warriors at the end of a _Hak'kam_ ," I replied. I of course had no idea what warriors usually did at the end of a _Hak'kam_ , but I figured it couldn't be much different.

"VOYA." Rane'li's voice was sharp, and her tone was insistent. The quarian slowly lowered the blade, sliding it back home in its sheath. Turro deactivated his weapon, the curved bow bending back into a straight rod.

Koris let out a long, audible breath. The quarian soldiers around us also visibly relaxed, resuming their posts.

"Gentlemen," Koris said, "The Elder is waiting. The sooner our business is concluded, the sooner our presence here is gone."

I nodded in agreement. "Lead the way, Commander Kean."

Kean gave one more focused glare at Voya'Chi, then turned and went through the door. I braced myself for whatever was on the other side.

 _OK…Here we go…._

* * *

 ***CIERAN KEAN***

Elder Shar narrowed his wide, gleaming eyes as we entered his simple office. There were no self-congratulatory medals or trophies upon the walls, only a few simple pieces of art largely devoted o the mountain range that Celthani resided within. There were no chairs for guests, and only a plain, battered one for himself behind an equally worn desk.

"Elder." I grunted his title as I entered, stepping aside to wave the others through. My head dipped a few hairs to the left in respect for the old man. He rose from his chair slowly, leaning heavily on a cane that looked like it had been carved from an Elcor's forearm bone. He wore plain business attire, and like most Terminus Quarian men had grown his white sideburns long to complement his equally long hair.

His wrinkled gray skin creased further as he gave me a polite smile, though the expression vanished as his two guests entered.

The Imperator bowed his head respectfully, his voice solemn. "Elder Shar, thank you for meeting with us."

"I am only meeting with you because the Lady commands it." Shar growled, his voice still deep and strong despite his age. "Otherwise outsiders wouldn't have been allowed through the gate."

The Conclave's leader blinked repeatedly, as if taken aback by the blunt response. There was a quiet sigh from the Migrant present, the young diplomat stepping forwards as he spoke. "Honored Elder, my name is Elam'Koris vas Qwib Qwib-"

Shar cut him off before he could finish. "I don't care what ship you happened to spawn on, boy, or what fleet captain had the pity enough to take you in from your pilgrimage wanderings. Tell me why you are here so that I might be soonest rid of you, enough of my time has already been wasted."

Koris's glowing eyes blinked once, then he continued as if he'd expected that remark. Which he probably had. "I bear a message from my father, the Representative of the Quarian Confederacy of the Galactic Conclave."

"Such fancy titles for the leader of a group of outcasts and space-gypsies." The elder shook his head, making his stiff hair rustle slightly. "Very well, boy. Give your message, and get you gone from here."

The Migrant bowed his head once. "My father gives you greetings, to you and all your people. He knows there has been…bad blood between us, and our histories are ones of jealousy, distrust, and outright betrayal, on both parties."

I rolled my eyes slightly at the gross understatement. For his part Shar simply pressed his lips together and waited for him to continue.

After a few moments, Koris did so. "But that is our history, and the history of our ancestors. My father seeks to write a new history: one our children can look back upon with pride."

Shar let out a quiet snort. "That will have to be quite the book, boy, to overshadow so long a history of shame."

There was a bow from the suited Quarian as he continued his obviously pre-prepared speech, "And one that cannot be written as a divided people. Your people are mighty, Elder. They have won strength and respect through the courage of their hearts and the strengths of their blades. We have had our…many differences, yes. But why should our children grow up hating one another? Why should it matter, what words were exchanged by Quarians long-since dead?"

"Enough of the meaningless words," Shar crossed his arms high on his chest."Tell me what he offers."

"My father wishes to begin a new chapter between our two peoples: to that end, he has sent me here, as a sign of good faith, and a symbol of his hope. He invites you, with the deepest of respect, to send emissaries of your own to Ilos. See the settlements we have begun, and see the life we are re-building."

Koris had largely managed to keep his tone polite and open, as a diplomat should have, but now and then I could hear the flatter tones of a man just going through the motions. He knew where this was going to go, but from the polite smile that the Imperator was wearing, he had no idea.

"And, if what you see, and if what my father says meet with your approval… Ilos is a large planet, lush and green, and provide for twice the numbers of Quarians that dwell in the Old District. Your strength can be joined with ours. And our people can be one again."

The Elder didn't so much as twitch, instead simply staring at the young man.

Another bow preceded the final piece of the speech. "This is not a decision that can be made overnight, I know, Elder, nor is it even the decision that need be made now. It will take years…generations, even, for the rift between our two peoples to even begin to heal. All my father asks, is that the long process begin…here, and now."

"Elder..." Imperator Ko'le spoke, taking a half step forwards. "I have known Zaal'Koris for a while now. He is a Quarian of honor. This offer is made of his own volition, and is, indeed of his own imagining. Your people need no longer live under the heel of others. They need no longer fear anyone, or be looked down upon by any in this galaxy. You can have a _home_ again…"

Silence fell, unbroken but for the distant rumble of the city around us. After a few moments to collect his thoughts, Shar shook his head and spun neatly on his heel. Striding over to the room's only window, he stared out of it as he spoke. "Honor. You don't understand the word, boy, nor do you understand us. When your ship approached the mountains, did you see the hills to the south?"

The Imperator exchanged a glance with the diplomat before cautiously nodding. "We did."

"Our ancestors are buried there. My father, my grandfather, and his father before him all rest beneath the sod. They were broken by the lash of others, but they gave their lives to secure this District for their people." The Elder spun around again, the tip of his macabre cane slamming into the ground as lips twisted to show his anger. " _This_ is our home, Imperator. The soil of Xentha is blue with the blood of quarians, watered with our sweat and tears, and fertilized by the bodies of our honored dead. You are right when you say we need no longer _fear a_ nyone. _We do no such thing_. And we do not need the charity of outsiders to grant us _anything_."

The caveman rocked back as if he'd just been slapped, his eyes blinking rapidly in confusion. Before he could say anything, the elder had rounded on the migrant, his cane up and stabbing towards the young man's chest. "You. Tell your father to come here himself, rather than send his spawn to carry his messages for him. Tell him to crawl, on his hands and knees, his visor in the dust, door-to-door, to every house in the District. Instruct him to _beg_ for the forgiveness of every Terminus Quarian for three centuries of neglect, betrayal, torture, enslavement, rape, and murder. Then, Elam'Koris vas Qwib Qwib, he will have his fresh start you say he so desires."

A ragged breath followed as the old man sagged, the anger evidently having drained him. He turned away with another rustling shake of his skull. "The Lady Warlord has instructed me to give you safe passage through the District. I suggest you use it to return to your ship, and go back to your homes in the Conclave."

Ko'le opened his mouth to speak, but Koris touched his arm and shook his head. The Neanderthal's eyes turned white for a moment, and I blinked in shock at the sight. After a few moments, he seemed to sigh and then nod. While he turned and walked the few steps back to the door, the Quarian bowed to the old man's back.

"Thank you for the gift of your time, Elder Shar. I will bear your words to my father, who will be grieved to hear them, however merited they may be. _Keelah'selai_."

He turned to follow his ruler into the antechamber, only to pause when the Elder called to him. "Elam'Koris."

His helmet turned around as he looked back.

The Elder's wide eyes narrowed to slits. "You knew I would reject your offer, boy. If you ever attempt to waste my time again, your body will hang from the outer walls. _Xentha mashan selai._ "

Even with the suit I could see him swallow, shifting back slightly before he offered another polite bow. And then he was gone, fleeing out of the room as rapidly as his legs would allow.

Rather than waste words, I simply offered the old man a slight bow of my head, a gesture he returned tiredly, before turning and leaving. I made sure to politely close his door behind me, finding the room to be even more tense than it had been when we'd gone in.

"Let's get moving." I spoke, cutting off the initial questions from both the Raloi and Voya. "We can talk on the way."

The Imperator's people all glanced to him, and didn't start moving until he gave a jerking nod and began walking towards the door. It didn't take very long to clear out of the building, with Koris in particular looking all too eager to put some distance between his suit and this entire city. The sight of him stumbling on the stairs outside made Voya snicker loudly, and I sighed at the sound.

I couldn't begrudge her enjoyment, but I seriously didn't feel like breaking up any more fights. "Rane, Voya. Go on ahead and make sure our path is clear. Secure an aircar when you get to the lot so we can get these idiots back to their ship."

"But it's..." Voya began to protest, closing her mouth when I flicked a glare in her direction. Her lips curled into a pout, but she eventually nodded. Rane gave me a slightly worried glance of her own, but didn't question the decision before the pair of them turned away and accelerated on ahead of us.

Sighing, I shifted myself out and slightly in front of the group, waving them on ahead as we got moving. The problem with my plan became almost immediately apparent, as the two guards who hadn't been involved in the conversation asked for details. Ko'le and Koris promptly gave them, which was tolerable enough. Amusing even.

But then the Imperator started to try and figure out what had gone wrong. Out loud.

I tuned out the irritating whining for as long as I could, though that honestly wasn't all that long. It didn't help that quite a bit of my annoyance was directed towards myself for sending Rane and Voya on ahead, depriving me of of the ability to talk with them to distract myself.

We'd scarcely walked three blocks before I couldn't take the idiot's confused self-pity anymore. What was worse was that the Flotilla Quarian at least seemed to grasp that this entire endeavor had been a waste of time from the beginning, despite the pretty words he'd offered to the Elder. Normally I'd appreciate such intelligence, but the inbred persisted in actually trying to answer the inane questions his boss was asking him. The Vorcha was at least being sensibly quiet, as was the bird. Though the latter seemed more interested in staring at absolutely everything around him, taking everything in as if it was vitally important.

"But why-" The Imperator began again, only for me to interrupt him mid-word as my patience failed me.

"Because you're an _idiot._ " I all but snapped, "Seriously, do you understand _anything_ about the Terminus?"

"I..." From the way his head whipped in my direction, he'd entirely forgotten that I was present. "What?"

Exhaling, I counted to ten in both Batarian languages, worked my way through Thessian as well, and then forced patience into my voice. "The Terminus. Xentha. Did you go over any kind of cultural primers? Talk with people who actually live here willingly?"

More blinking and a quick glance at the Vorcha. "Not really?"

"Sacred Pillars." Reaching up with my right hand, I rubbed furiously at my face before turning to Koris. "And you just let him walk into that unprepared?"

"I tried to warn him." His helmet shook, his posture showing more than a little irritation. "But he insisted on making the attempt."

The Neanderthal twisted his lips and crossed his arms, glancing at his companion before turning to glower at me. "Fine. What did I do wrong?"

"There isn't enough alcohol in the galaxy to last me through _that_ conversation." I replied flatly. "I mean, seriously. Your fashion sense is terrible, that armor looks like you killed a lobster and crawled into its shell."

His eyes rolled. "What did I do wrong _here_?"

"Ah." Making a show of shaking my head, I let out a long exhale and shifted my body to show him my mild annoyance. "Do you want to start with the Elder, or the Warlord?"

"Elder."

"Simple enough." I supplied, turning away and resuming our trek towards the outer walls. "You expected to them to be something they aren't."

His heavy face pulled into a frown as we moved, his entourage trailing in our wake. "I... thought they'd be more like their kin."

"They weren't like us when they chose living here over the protection of the fleet." Koris supplied from his place behind us. "Much less in modern times. They've lived in the Terminus for three centuries."

"And been enslaved and abused for most of it." Ko'le all but growled.

"Yup." I shrugged. "And you offered them nothing but more of that."

His head whipped in my direction. "I did no such-"

"You would have transplanted them from their secure city here to a world they've never been to and asked them to trust a bunch of people they've never met with their very lives." I replied flatly. "Their safety would be entirely in other people's hands because you'd never allow them to keep all of the weapons they carry, and you'd probably outlaw trophy taking which would remove a massive corner-stone of their culture."

"A disgusting one." Koris muttered behind us. "How they could do that..."

"Would _you_ try and enslave someone crazy enough to scalp a Krogan and carry it's crest around?" I asked.

"That's how that started?" The Imperator asked quietly.

"Originally." I shrugged. "Though honestly that's little more than a guess, they really don't tell outsiders much of anything."

"Aren't you close friends with one?" He pressed.

I snorted. "That doesn't mean anything. They _don't_ explain their culture to aliens, period."

Silence fell for several steps before he shook his head and grunted. "Another legacy of being enslaved for so long. What could I have done differently?"

"Not made the attempt at all." I stated bluntly. "It was a bad idea to begin with, and a worse one thanks to your ignorance."

His lips twisted slightly, but he seemed to let that matter drop for now. "All right, what did I do wrong with the Warlord?"

"Also simple." I grunted. "You came here expecting to negotiate with the Council. What you got was the Terminus. Everything stems from that issue."

"People are people." He replied, shaking his head. "I mean, sure there's some differences but at the end of the day everyone wants peace and-"

I interrupted him by groaning and turning away from him. Taking a few steps, I paced back and forth in the empty street as I tried to work my thoughts out loud. I really had no idea why I was bothering, beyond a sort of general irritation at his ignorance of my culture, but that by itself was apparently enough to get me worked up. "Pillar of Strength grant me your aid... you really _don't_ understand at all, do you?"

"Understand what?" He demanded, finally starting to look properly annoyed.

"People out here, in the Terminus in general..." I spoke slowly, trying to find the words to help the naive idiot understand. "Don't respect words like 'peace'. You came here without a fleet, with a bribe, and with words like 'peace', 'justice', and 'honor'. The first is actually _insulting_ because you apparently don't consider the Warlord a sufficient threat to warrant a larger escort. I mean, fuck, you've got _two_ guards with you."

"They're-"

I waved a hand impatiently. "The Vorcha and the Raloi are probably lethal enough as fighters, but I don't really care because they wouldn't save you if she decided you needed to die. As for the second item, bringing those ships as a bribe was really the only intelligent thing that you did. It put T'Ravt in your debt enough to hear you out despite the general incompetence of your presentation.

He twitched at the word 'incompetence'. I filed that away and continued. "And seriously? People want _peace_? _Justice_? Have you _been_ to Omega? Nos Astra's outer suburbs? Tortuga?"

"We're helping Tortuga transition to a democratic government." He pointed out.

It was a fight, but I managed not to sneer or show my disdain in my body language. "Yes, and you're first attempt at an election nominated the _Ha_ ' _diq_ who you've got imprisoned for slaving and drug running. The second had what, a two percent turnout?"

His jaw clenched visibly, the only sign that he wasn't pleased that I knew those details. Next to him, Koris shifted a little uncomfortably before seeming to idle away from us. He at least had sufficient instincts to leave a volatile situation, and I mentally increased his competence factor. The Raloi clicked its beak a few times, but said nothing while the odd Vorcha was locked in a thousand-yard stare, evidently prepared to tune out the argument entirely.

After a few moments, the Imperator managed to growl out the numbers. "Two and a half."

"Of whom how many were freed slaves?" I cocked my head a bit to the right, my lips curling in amusement. When he didn't reply, I did it for him. "Eighty-nine percent. You should have learned from that."

"Learned what?" He snapped, patience clearly at an end.

"People out here don't _give a fuck_ about your values, your peace." My arms crossed as I stared down my nose at him. "They respect _strength._ Power. Determination. The will to succeed at _any_ fucking cost. You've got ships, but where are they? You came here like a pauper desperate to keep T'Ravt on the sidelines instead of like the ruler of an Empire looking to vassalize a lesser state."

Ko'le opened his mouth to reply, then closed it and seemed to tilt his head as if listening to something. After a few moments he shook it as understanding seemed to flick across his features. "The greatest insult an enemy can be offered is to be ignored."

I bowed my head a little to the Krogan proverb. "And the second greatest insult is to be viewed as weak. Out here, weak gets you trampled into the sand, gets you abused, enslaved, or simply _used._ If you seriously want people to listen to you, you need to stop _negotiating_ and start _demanding._ "

"But that's what's _wrong_ with the galaxy!" He snapped, a sudden personality flip that made me blink. Pillars, it even sounded like his voice had a slight shift to it, coming out in a different, almost younger tone. "No one _cares_ about the little guy! The people who can't stand on their own, where do they stand out here!?"

"They... don't?" I asked with a slight frown, the sandstorm in my mind whirling as I tried to make sense of his rapidly flipping moods. "They end up kneeling. Or dead."

"Exactly!" He stabbed a finger in my direction. "That's what's _fucking wrong_ with this galaxy. I'm not here to try and make myself stronger. I'm not _here_ to gain power. I'm here to get the little guys back on their feet. Everybody has only concerned themselves with _what_ they could get from the Quarians: labor, slaves, soldiers. I want to give them _their own fucking_ place in the galaxy. I wish nothing from them, other than for them to wake up and find that they are _strong_."

My eyes were blinking rapidly by that point, and what few Quarians were around were leaning out of windows or glancing out of doorways to stare in confusion, and even his escorts seemed stunned at the sudden explosion.

I mean, _of course_ Quarians were strong, hadn't the giant walls decorated with corpses proved that? Or was he doing the 'true strength is moral strength' routine?

I opened my mouth to try and get him to shut up with the self-righteous ranting long enough to answer a few questions, only to be shouted down as he continued. Worse, his tone changed yet _again_ , becoming cold and hard. "Do not pretend to give a shit about these people, Kean. You care _nothing_ for the suffering going on around you. I have lived through wars that make your little skirmish of Redcliffe look like a fucking walk in the park! War is coming, boy, and not between petty Terminus warlords who are content to squabble like varren over bones!"

The guy was practically foaming at the mouth, and odd green light was flickering around him. His biotics, probably, I'd read a report somewhere that Prothean biotics were green for some unknown reason. If I didn't get him to calm down he'd blast something, or someone. And since I was the closest someone, and the one who'd set him off...

Shouting at him probably would only bring more ranting, so my best bet would probably be to try and flip his personality again. And maybe, just maybe, direct his anger at himself instead of at me and the people around us.

Drawing myself up to my full height, I affected an amused little grin and started to clap. Not quickly, mind you, I did it nice and slow to the point where it was abundantly obvious that I was mocking him.

"Bravo. _Bravo_." I drawled quietly, "Do you tell that speech to yourself every night, or just when your crippling hypocrisy gets the better of you?"

Something like fury flowed into his features, and for a second I thought I saw the whites of his eyes darken as his fists clenched as the light shifted around his arms. " _What?_ "

"Your hy-poc-ris-y." I repeated, sounding out each syllable to make it extra insulting. "Let's go through these 'little people' you're so fond of defending. The hanar. Jellyfish who worship you as a living god, who aren't terribly skilled in a fight, but have some of the best tech around after the Asari. The volus. Even worse at fighting, but are more than capable of funding an army for you. Then the elcor, an ignored species desperate for recognition who just _happen_ to make excellent shock troops."

His breathing had increased slightly, and I was pretty sure his fingers had started to twitch.

"Seems to me like you picked them all for very specific reasons." My head shook slightly as I shifted my posture to show my disdain. "To fill roles that you needed in place. A trend you continued when you added in the Migrant Quarians, owners of the largest fleet in the galaxy. Toss in Cerberus to give you an elite special forces group, the Rachni to give you all the cannon fodder you could ever need, and you get an instant, well-rounded empire. Every species and group cemented in their niche, all directed by a single will."

The Imperator went slightly still, the anger shifting to something else... something almost like shock.

"You're as much of a dictator as T'Ravt is." I continued, my voice flat. "You use and abuse everyone around you to accomplish your goals, your missions, just as she does. The difference is that you lie to yourself about it, and lie to them by letting them think that they have a say in their own fate when you've already marked the trail in the sands."

His throat worked as the cave-man swallowed, then he shook his head and murmured. "I am _nothing_ like her, Kean. Nothing like any of you."

"In that, we agree." I stated, turning my back on him and resuming my walk towards the Old District's outer wall. "We, at least, are capable of admitting that we are monsters."

Shockingly, nothing more was said for the rest of the trip.

* * *

Review Responses:

Toothless is best – You should go catch up on the _Arrival_ series: Katkiller-V weaves quite the compelling tale.

griezz – Some of that may be true, but there's also a degree of naivity with Ko'le/Kevin as well. Kevin is used to dealing with people from the Citadel region, and his knowledge of culture comes from the _games_. That knowledge is useless here in the Terminus Systems. It's an adjustment, for both parties.

Legendary Junk Mail – Glad you've enjoyed it, my friend. Let me know what you think of the future chapters.

Lord Mortem – I think everyone's in for surprises… on both sides.


	5. Chapter 5: The Task Ahead

***KO'LE*  
CSV **_**NORMANDY**_

A punching bag slammed into the side of the hanger bay, splitting open and spilling sand onto the floor. My biotics abated, but my foul mood did not.

 _Damn_. _That's the fourth bag in a row, Kevin._

 _Better bags than people._

 _Damn them._

 _Damn Kean and his smug arrogance._

 _Damn T'Ravt and her calculating manipulations._

 _DAMN THEM ALL!_

The elevator opened, diverting my attention from my violent thoughts for a moment.

" _I was not angry since I came to France, until this instant,"_ EDI said, her metal mobile emitter floating into the room. Her holographic form came online a second later, surrounding the metal orb. This time, she was in casual dress, with a tank top and cargo pants.

I smiled. It was nice to just _talk_ to her, rather than have her voice amplified and broadcasted over the _Normandy's_ speaker system.

"Shakespeare, Henry the Fifth," I replied, in acknowledgement of her quote. "Apt, except there is no Battle of Agincourt to fight. I feel more like the Henry talking to Catherine in the final act: He doesn't speak French, and she doesn't speak English…"

She came and perched on the nearby weight system.

"I don't think I've ever seen you like _this_ ," she said, resting a holographic chin on her holographic knees.

"What, angry?" I asked. "I think we both know that's not true."

"No…" EDI mused. "This isn't 'angry.' People _die_ when you are angry. This is…'upset.' You want to fight something, but you can't. So you attack and massacre helpless exercise equipment."

"Kean… just really presses my buttons. I knew things were different out here. I just didn't know everyone was so… _blind_."

I went over and pressed my face into a towel, trying to cool off.

"All of my actions are taken _precisely_ the wrong way. I come with only one ship, seeking to convey humility and friendliness: I'm seen as arrogant, or worse, weak. I offer an alternative to outright war: I'm seen as mewling, and a beggar. I come offering unity, and a return from exile: I'm seen as prideful and blind."

"So?"

"I don't know…how to communicate with these people. In MY cycle, the offer would not have been made. It would have been a demand, made over the bones of their parents, and the corpses of their children: Kneel or die."

EDI looked amused.

"What?"

"Sorry, you just sounded a lot like Javik there:' In my cycle this' and 'In my cycle that.'"

I sighed, throwing the towel back on the bench.

"Neither of us can afford war: not with the Reapers coming. The Prothean Emperor was involved in a bloody and costly civil war with the Separatists when the Reapers struck. Both sides had worn themselves so thin in the conflict that neither could present an effective force against the Reaper tides. By the time the leaders moved past their prejudices in the name of bloody survival…it was too late. Too much ground had been lost, as well as the offensive advantage. They became a reactionary force, playing a defensive game for time. That game lasted them another century and a half, but it was a losing game, EDI. And 6 _trillion_ citizens of the Prothean Empire _died_ because of it."

EDI stared at me, thoughtfully.

"Does T'Ravt know this?"

I sighed again.

"She's heard the stories. The hanar preachers have spread it from one side of the galaxy to the other. They show the footage of Sovereign, they tell of my own exploits, they play Benezia's and Saren's recordings that I GAVE THEM, and still, there are few enough who believe. Because they do not WANT to. They're much more comfortable believing that I have deceived the hanar and am using them to spread my propaganda for my own ends. That I am using FEAR to bring people to my cause because that's _precisely_ what they would do, if given half the chance. Beyond showing her my _own_ memories, there's no way to convince her."

I opened my hands in a shrug of helplessness.

"And even _I'm_ not naive enough to suggest her melding with me… She'd laugh in my face."

EDI sat up, meeting my gaze.

"Then what do you have that she does not, Dad? That _no one else_ in the galaxy does? What gives the Conclave an edge over the rest of the galaxy?"

I pursed my lips, not sure where she was going with this.

"A boy from twenty-first century Earth, stuck in my head?"

EDI rolled her holographic eyes.

" _Information_ , Father of mine. you have supplied the Alliance and the Council with Reaper technical readouts and strategic information, and they have done nothing with them. Show T'Ravt what is coming, and she will understand your motivation in coming to her: Not for your survival or hers, but for the entire galaxy's."

I pondered that for a while: T'Ravt had built her empire by not trusting anyone, and never relying on any one person for anything. It was no undoing the mistakes I had already made. No taking back the words that I had spoken.

But what _could_ be done was to ensure that T'Ravt acted as our ally in this sector of space. Or at the _very least_ , that she didn't act as our enemy. I nodded, slowly, a plan beginning to formulate in my mind….

"Now then: are you done feeling sorry for yourself, or do I need to requisition more sandbags for you to punch?"

I looked over at the A.I. and marveled at how far she had come since Luna.

"Dear ol'Dad doesn't have quite _everything_ figured out yet, does he?"

EDI smiled back at me.

"From my study of organic culture, I believe that is an important aspect of each generation: seeing the mistakes of their parents and working to avoid them, while making mistakes of their own in the meantime."

Then she stood to her feet.

"Now, come on, I've got _just the thing_ to cheer you up."

She held out her hand to me.

I looked at her slyly, then took her hand. The hardlight interface felt very cold to the touch, but she helped me to my feet and towards the elevator.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Your cabin."

"What's there?"

"Can't tell. Secret."

I rocked back on my heels, pondering what it could possibly be.

"Is it a present?" I asked.

"Of a sort."

The mystery of it all stumped me as I went back and forth. Current theories ranged from "Klaang had sent me a new blade", to "Ash got surprise leave from the Alliance, and is waiting in my cabin."

As far-fetched as the last one was, I confess that it was the leading contender when the elevator door opened and I strode through the Captain's Cabin door.

A holographic projection of Gianna Parassini, the head of Con-Sec Intelligence, was projected above the table on the main level.

" **Ah, Imperator,"** she said, giving me a _very professional_ smile. **"Good to see you, sir."**

 _Shit._

I looked back at EDI to give her a glare.

"YOU are in massive trouble, young lady," I said quietly.

"Call it a dutiful daughter's encouragement of a father's responsibilities," EDI said smiling, while at the same time backing out of the room.

"You're _terrible_ …"

"Good luck!"

And with that she was gone. I turned back to my Director of Intelligence, desperately trying to shift my brain out of "We're-about-to-have-sex" mode.

 _JESUS._

" **Shall we begin, sir? I'm afraid after our last** _ **two**_ **canceled meetings, our roster of topics that need either your attention or signature is quite extensive."**

"Miss Parassini," I said, taking a seat, "I formally grant you full authority of the Imperator to forge my signature on anything that requires it."

Gianna smiled.

" **A tempting offer, I must admit, Ko'le. And a** _ **valiant**_ **effort to avoid responsibility. So…Finances or Commerce first?"**

I sighed, admitting defeat.

Nobody talks about the bit of being a member of a ruling body of a government where _hours_ of your time is taken with paperwork. Gianna's ability to call me by my _name_ , and not "Imperator," "Seneschal," or "sir" was a welcome relief, and indeed, was one of the reasons I chose her. That, and her utter dedication to even the most minute of details.

A dedication that I did not share… I mean, what kind of opinion was I supposed to have on setting up _wildlife refuges_ for Irunian Moon-jackals?

There were, however a few key points of interest.

" **Dr. Maelon Heplorn has returned to Tuchanka to start working with the Dragon Project. They have begun the first round of live trials for the immune-booster for Clan Urdnot females,"** she shared. **"So far, Urdnot clan rate of successful live births have grown** _ **another**_ **1.3% since the testing began."**

 _Very intriguing_. _And promising._

"Leak this information to our friends in the STG," I said thoughtfully. "Have our people there make sure it gets into the hands of a Dr. Mordin Solus eventually. Not the whole story of course, but the odd rumors or hints might be worthwhile.

" **Of course, Ko'le. Aaaaand next,"** she said, putting _another_ file on the display, after literally _hours_ of the same, **"I need a statement from the Office of the Imperator concerning the Commerce Guild's Summit on Kahje last week."**

"Father below _, I don't_ _care…"_ I answered, spreading my hands in an exhausted gesture.

"' _ **The Imperator feels that the confines of his office dictate no comment be made on the duties concerning economic matters,'"**_ Gianna extemporized. **"How does that sound?"**

"Gianna, they've served us a _meal_ in the time we've been sitting here," I complained.

" **Yes, welcome to my world,"** the young lady retorted, cracking a grin at my obvious discomfort. **"Did you seriously not do** _ **anything**_ **like this when you were second in command of an Empire?"**

My expression went grim.

"Yes, I had the great fun of orchestrating a fighting retreat, across seventeen solar systems. I got to organize mass evacuations of planets, and decide which billion people had to die, that another six billion could live. No, Gianna, I did not have to deal with _merchants_ and _economics_."

Gianna's grin faded, and she bowed her head slightly.

" _ **Sorry,"**_ She said, shame very evident on her expression. **"I don't know what I was thinking. That was…very unprofessional of me, sir."**

"That's…" I began, but then just waved my hand. "Is that all you need from me today, Parassini-san?"

" **I think so, sir,"** Gianna said, " **Thank you for your time. I'll schedule another sit-down in…"**

" _Gianna_."

" **Yes, sir."**

I sighed, putting my forehead in my hand. "You were not to know. And I reacted…harshly. It has been pointed out by… _many_ , in recent days," I winced, Kean's smug expression flashing in front of me, "that I am a bit out of my depth in many aspects of this cycle. I wear the mask of omnipotence, but it makes for a poor guide. I truly _am_ grateful for people like you, who can pull me back to shore."

Gianna darted her eyes around the room, clearly uncomfortable.

" **Aww…come on, boss, don't all soft on me. The** _ **Seneschal's**_ **reputation of being the big, bad, badass is one of the reasons I took this job…"**

Her smile that she gave me showed me how much she appreciated the compliment, though.

"Don't forget to take some time off for yourself," I said, changing the subject. "Go on a _date_. Catch a show. Unwind."

" **Would if I could,"** she replied, gesturing to her desk, **"But I have too many signatures to forge."**

I chuckled and nodded.

"Be well, Gianna Parassini-san."

" **And you, sir. Good luck with your speech today. And the banquet tonight."**

Then the connection ended.

I exhaled and leaned back, rubbing my eyes. The Prothean optic implants helped me process large streams of data almost instantly, but even they hurt after a few hours of staring at Omni-screens and Holo-projectors.

What was I gonna do at the banquet tonight? How, in Mother's name, was I going to make all this right?

 _Wait a minute…._

 _What speech?_

The door opened, and EDI strode in again. She tried her best to stick to social norms when it came to me, though I was of course aware that she had never left this room at all.

"Are you done torturing me?" I asked. "Or have you devised fresh horrors for your old man?"

She smiled back. I noticed that that this time, she was clad in a formal Conclave dress uniform.

"Just a small task, of your own invention, actually."

"What might that be?" I asked.

When I looked confused, she picked up the gold box sitting on the desked and handed it to me.

"The graduation speech for the first class of Sanctuary Station?"

Realization hit me like a slap in the face.

"Good heavens, is that today?"

EDI made the completely useless motion of pretending to examine her wrist.

"In about…sixteen minutes."

I slipped the box onto the small of my back, typing the 'Engage' code into the palm-pad. The armor unfolded, wrapping around my legs, chest, and arms, even as I walked out of my cabin and into the hallway.

"Good Lord, that snuck up on me…."

The elevator opened once again, revealing a smiling Kelly Chambers, datapad in hand.

"Good evening, Seneschal," she said, her charming gregariousness cutting through the worries and cares that had been so heavy on my mind minutes ago. "Your speech for the graduates?"

"Oh," I realized, my heart-rate rising, "I…guess I could compose _something_ in the short time we have left…"

"If you actually _checked_ your inbox more frequently, you'd have realized this," Kelly replied, disapprovingly, but still affectionately so. "I have taken the liberty of writing you a speech for the occasion. All you have to do is read the words off of your optic HUD."

My left eye flashed green as words began appearing in front of me. I quickly scanned through the inspirational message, seeing a couple minor things here and there that I might tweak.

"This is…this is… _quite_ good, Kelly," I said with genuine admiration.

She smiled and simply nodded.

"That _is_ the reason you pay me, sir."

"Do you mind if I change just a few things?"

She shook her head, the Pollyanna-like smile never leaving her face.

"That's your privilege, for paying me, sir."

The doors opened up on the CIC, and I moved to the right to go through the lab complex and then to the main briefing room. EDI's metal orb had accompanied us from the hanger bay, and she took her place on my left as EDI took her place on my right.

"Connecting you to Sanctuary Training Station, _Imperator_ ," EDI said, bringing the holo-projector online.

The former location of Project Overlord (before I shut _that shit down_ ), the newly renamed Sanctuary Training Station had been founded when the Conclave had moved onto the planet in force to end the factional in-fighting and violence.

 _THERE_ , democracy had triumphed, I thought. And it was true: An interim planetary legislative body had been founded, with representatives from all the factions sitting on the popularly-elected body.

Of course, now that I thought about it, the presence of the Conclave military installations in orbit or the giant military training base of Sanctuary might have had something to do with that. Also, the planet had been in a constant state of civil war for almost eighty years, since its first founding in 2104. All the factions were tired of war, and the younger generation had grown up in bomb shelters, with death and starvation staring most of them in the face every day. They had been _desperate_ for something else… _anything_ else, which the Conclave had been happy to provide.

Now, recruits of _all_ species had assembled at Sanctuary to train at the nine-month program. Veterans of other wars, we put to work elsewhere, on the myriad other deployments in Conclave space. _These_ students were the young, and the uninitiated: quarian children who would have been setting out their pilgrimages a short while ago, or young teens of all other races looking for their places in the galaxy: humans, drell, turians, salarians, batarians, and yes, even a few asari maidens could be found on the recruit rosters.

There, quarian instructors equipped them with the skills necessary to keep _anything_ running, in _any_ conditions. Prothean _sensei_ began teaching our long-forgotten principles of the _Duro-ko_ fighting style. Krogan drill instructors instilled within them discipline, and coolness under pressure. Volus scientists installed state-of-the-art medical upgrades and cutting-edge cybernetic implants to increase maximum performance. Drell assassins passed on their knowledge information gathering and subterfuge, as well as their mastery of pistol, sub-machine-gun, shotgun, rifle, and sniper training. The biotically gifted among them were receiving instruction under the finest teachers the Conclave could find.

It was a fascinating place, where the "rules" of how war was waged in this galaxy were being rewritten every day: There was an elcor gunnery school, as well as a vorcha university, where the young pups, under hanar teachers, were being taught both how to live and how to make others die. There was an entire regiment of volus who were training in giant exo-suits, determined to defend their country and overcome their people's stereotypes.

And here I was, speaking to the first graduating class of the brutal nine-month program.

The hologram flared into focus, and I saw that I was being projected behind a podium, with ranks upon ranks of the graduates in neat rows below me. We had cut off the number of recruits at nine _thousand_ for our pioneer class. Of these, we had achieved a 93% graduation rate, far better than even the most optimistic of the Circle's projections. There were already plans to expand to program to eventually graduate as many as _ten_ to _fifteen_ thousand a class.

As it was, I was looking out at just over eighty-three hundred young men and women of the Conclave, waiting to hear their _Imperator_ 's words. Eight thousand, three hundred and seventy-seven graduates, from every species of the known galaxy (with the exception of the Rachni, who cannot survive separated from their Queen, and the Raloi, who did plan on sending students in the future).

I blinked once, channeling the _Seneschal_ of the Prothean Empire as I began my speech:

" **Soldiers of Sanctuary Class of 2184:**

 **You are the first of your kind: Pioneers of your profession.**

 **Trailblazers of the wilderness that both lies behind you and stretches before you.**

 **A training program such as this, an** _ **institution**_ **such as this, is unpresented in this history of both this cycle, and mine own.**

 **In my cycle, a Prothean began their military training at the age of eight. That training would continue until the hour of their death, which would usually occur in battle, at the average age of thirty-three.**

 **For the past nine months, you have trained to fight that very same war we did, against the very same enemy.**

 **You have received training in a variety of fields, from the very best instructors in their respective fields.**

 **This has made you the BEST of the BEST. No OTHER force in the** _ **recorded**_ **history of this galaxy has been so well-trained, so well-equipped.**

 **But you are unique not only in your training, not only in your equipment, but also in your calling and purpose.**

 **You are not the army of a tyrannical despot, molded to carve out an empire from the stars.**

 **You are NOT the army of a single race, determined to preserve a particular culture, or a particular way of life.**

 **You are the hope of an entire galaxy, the preservers of our very existence.**

 **You are guardians, facing down an enemy that has no other goal than the extinction of life in this galaxy.**

 **The Reapers ARE coming, my children, and the vast majority of the galaxy stands blind and unprepared, unready or unwilling to believe in the doom that advances upon us from Deep Space.**

 **THIS IS YOUR PURPOSE.**

 **THIS IS YOUR CALLING.**

 **We WILL meet the Reapers, in the dark and cold of space, and on the shores and cities of your homes and firesides.**

 **Remember your training, and we will prevail.**

 **Remember WHO you ARE, and we will drive them back into the Darkness from which they spawned!**

 **Remember these words, and you will succeed, where so many before you have failed!**

 **And why?**

 **Because today, you are no longer Human, Elcor, or Batarian.**

 **Today, you are no longer Drell, Krogan, Turian, or Quarian.**

 **Today, you are not Asari, Salarian, Hanar, Volus, or Vorcha.**

 **TODAY YOU ARE CONCLAVE, THE FINEST SOLDIERS OF THE GALAXY!**

 **TODAY, WE SEIZE CONTROL OF OUR DESTINY!**

I reached over my right shoulder, my sword's familiar weight filling my palm as I stretched it out over the assembled ranks.

" **TODAY, YOU PASS INTO LEGEND!"**

To a man, nine thousand soldiers slammed their fists against their chests. And the war-cry of the Prothean Empire sounded for the first time in nearly fifty millennia:

" **EE-RAH!"**

* * *

 ***CIERAN KEAN*  
CELTHANI, XENTHA**

"Try it now!" I called out from my post on top of the power armor chassis. It wasn't an easy spot to stand in, I'd had to wedge one foot into a hip joint and the other into the waist to let me stare into the guts of its shoulder.

"You sure?" Dietrich called out from beside the generator.

I shot him a look. "Do you see me inside this thing? Of course I'm not sure. Now fire it up."

Dietrich shrugged and hit the power button. Almost instantly, sparks began to flare from the Pillars-damned actuator.

"Off! Off! Fucking shut the fucking thing off!" I snapped, throwing up my arms instinctively, though the welding visor still protected my eyes. " _Chenethic_ piece of –"

"Told you it was drawing too much power." The bearded human munched on his toothpick, his tone philosophical

My free left hand flipped him off as I took a closer look at the charred remainder of my past hour's work.

Dietrich and I had originally met on Redcliffe. Officially, he was part of Reyja'krem Washan's cadre. However, with his Tarath'shan, or 'partner' if you listened to him describe their relationship, taking the job as a biotics instructor at the Academy, he'd been spending more time in the workshop with Rane and I. Not that I was about to complain: he was a fair mechanic when he wasn't being a smart-ass, and a pretty passable cook as well. Though thankfully he had better materials to work with here than he'd had on Redcliffe. As an added bonus, he was also one of the few people I'd met who could take Voya's attitude and snark in stride.

Hm. If Washan wasn't available… there was a chance he might be. I'd have to ask them about it, once the current political shit was done with.

"Judging by your scowl and the fact that my suit's arm is smoking, I'm guessing it's not fixed yet?"

I smirked on reflex when I heard the female batarian's voice, but quickly masked my expression as I turned around.

"Nonsense, Colonel," I drawled, "It's more than ready to go. At least, assuming you don't need to raise your left arm above your head. Let us tie some pretty little ribbons on the gun and call it good as new. Maybe even paint it green…"

Colonel Nara ul Thui sneered at my suggestion for a more feminine color. She was a tiny little thing, a rarity for a Batarian woman, but hadn't let her size prevent her from being able to kick some serious ass when the situation called for it.

"I suppose I should be grateful you humans haven't covered it with fur, like you do all the other beautiful things your species produces."

I looked down at Dietrich, my eyebrows raising. "Did she just call us 'beautiful'?"

Deet shrugged, but unable to keep his grin from his face. "Sounded it like it me Cie."

The woman in question scoffed and crossed her arms. "Shut up and get off my suit Commander."

I offered her a lazy batarian salute before complying. "Yeah, I'm moving."

Though technically Nara outranked me, we both knew that my standing and…duties with the Warlord put me several authority levels above her. But we also both knew that I would never pull that kind of rank on one of the few friends that I had. Especially not after what we'd been through on Redcliffe.

Shoving those thoughts aside, I shook my head a bit and grabbed a rag to wipe my hands clean.

"How are you doing, Cie?" She asked, dropping the "superior officer" façade as she tilted her head politely.

"Same as always: trying to keep my head above sand," I muttered, tossing the rag away in favor of fumbling with my pipe that I'd left on the workbench.

"At this rate, I should just requisition one of the new models coming in from Illium, rather than waiting on you two assholes to fix this one,' she continued to rib.

"Hey," I objected. "I'm didn't take _my_ suit toe-to-toe with a customized YMIR mech, and you don't see it broken, or smashed to hell."

"No, you just took on Vosque's command center single-handed," Nara agreed, giving me a broad grin. "Blindfolded, if the stories are to be believed."

"Sacred Pillars," I groaned, "those rumors still haven't died?"

Dietrich shrugged, "The best stories never do. And as battlefield stories go, it's a doozy."

I shook my head tiredly. "We snuck into a mostly-abandoned fortress, killed a human in his sleep, and then fought our way out before his guards had even realized what had happened. Nothing heroic or story-worthy about it."

"I don't know," Nara continued relentlessly, "Taking on a pair of krogan berserkers seems story-worthy."

"And don't forget the team of Nightwind assassins Vosque had guarding him," Diet added.

I rolled my eyes. There of course hadn't been any such forces in that castle, but every rendition of the story had snowballed, despite my best efforts. After the fifth version I'd just given up and done my best to avoid talking about that particular series of events.

"Drop it," I insisted, "Seriously, you know I can't stand that kind of shit."

My stance and voice must have reflected my growing irritation, because my companions complied.

And promptly shifted to another uncomfortable topic.

"So… what's he like?" Nara asked.

"Who?" I asked. I knew who she was talking about, but now it was my chance to annoy her in turn.

Nara did her absolute best to not to give me the satisfaction of showing her irritation. She kept her expression and body language natural for all of three or four seconds, and then she failed utterly as her voice turned waspish. "You _fucking_ know well who! The whole city's been talking about nothing else! The sand-cursed Imperator?!"

I raised my eyebrows, as if this was the first time it had occurred to me that he was even on planet.

"What's to tell? He's a Highborn arrogant asshole, all talk and show."

Nara blinked all four of her eyes, looking rather confused. "Really? That doesn't make any sense…"

I shrugged, take a few puffs of the chehala. The familiar taste and smell made me smile a little, despite the conversational topic. If my mother had been alive to see her human son smoking the batarian weed, her reaction would have been… interesting. And violent. And she'd have broken my pipe over my head, just for starters.

But after Redcliffe...it helped me to relax. And the Paragons themselves knew I needed it after this morning, and before the banquet tonight.

"No, really," Dietrich was speaking as I smoked, "My buddy on Omega swears he saw the Imperator take Dal'Serah's head: in the middle of the fuckin station."

"And his ability to gather allies and forces seems...formidable," Nara said, looking at me with something like disbelief mixed with confusion.

"What can I say? Ever since he's got here, he's done nothing but whine and beg for the Lady's participation in his Pillars-cursed Conclave. Even promised her a fucking governorship of all the territory she now controls."

Nara snorted, letting out a hissing breath between her teeth. "Seriously? That much? Sacred Pillars save us, she has that already."

I held my hands in a shrug. "Don't know what to tell you, that was his initial offer."

"He's still dangerous."

I looked up to see Rane and Voya entering the shop. My batarian lover's eyes were grim and serious. She nodded a greeting, to the right with Dietrich and to the left at Nara.

"What makes you think so?" Nara asked.

The taller woman twitched a shoulder as she walked, eventually slowing to a stop near me. "His smile."

"Come again?" I asked, trying to see where she was going with this.

"The walls," Rane explained patiently. "The corpses hanging there: the vorcha and the bird simply acknowledged their existence..."

"The migrant nearly threw up in his helmet," Voya added, grinning darkly at the mental picture.

"...but the Imperator looked...and smiled." She finished, her lower eyes narrowed.

I took another long draw on my pipe, trying to remember the Imperator's exact expression. Had he been smiling? I couldn't remember, I'd been more concerned with any potential problems with the locals. But now that I focused on the morning's events... there was something odd that I'd noticed.

"He's…a sand-ship in a storm: driven and tossed every moment," I said thoughtfully. The quote from the Pillar of Heart had come to me, as I remembered the instant and unpredictable personality shifts I witnessed. "One second he speaks and stands as a veteran commander….and the next he is a young boy, unsure of both himself and everyone around him. He might have a disorder of some kind."

Rane nodded slowly. "That might be plausible, but I think there is another factor that is more important: He has surrounded himself with formidable warriors. Many of them. If nothing else, that should give us pause."

"True," I mused, "The only vorcha I know that wear armor are either actually intelligent, or have lived through enough fights to gain some wisdom. That… _Pyke_ …struck me as both."

" _Please,"_ Voya scoffed. "Armor or no armor, that vorcha would have been dead if he'd tried anything."

Rane shot her a look, all four of her eyes narrowing. "And then that Raloi would have _killed_ you before any of us could have raised a weapon to stop him."

 _That_ prompted another pull of _chehala_ for me, while Voya scowled and mumbled something incoherent, fiddling with her knives.

It was quite probably a true statement. I was no quick-draw duelist by any means, I preferred my fights to be far more one-sided, but I hadn't survived this long by being slow. And not that I would admit it to _her,_ but Voya's reflexes were faster than mine, any day. But... Sacred _Pillars_ , that bird had _moved_. One second he had been holding a walking stick, moving slow and lethargically. The next, a fucking _bow_ was pointed at my friend. We'd been _seconds away_ from a firefight before the Imperator and Rane had stepped in to settle things down.

"If all his people are that lethal," I mused, "It brings another factor to any future conflicts the Lady may have with the Conclave."

"But that is a member of his coterie." Voya twitched a shoulder, clearly not willing to admit much of anything just yet. "Not a regular member of his army."

Which was also a true statement. It would make sense for him to surround himself with his most elite soldiers, so the Raloi's skills could be abnormal for its species. And in either case I didn't think they'd had time to filter out into his general units yet.

"Nara?" I asked quietly. "You think we could take them in a straight fight?"

"I hate straight fights as much as you do." She muttered, shaking her head as she sighed. "I honestly don't know. I think our reformed first-rate units would be a nasty surprise for them, but they've got a broader support base than we do. If we didn't win fast..."

"Yeah." Reaching up, I ran a hand through my hair as she came to the same conclusion that the Warlord and her entire senior staff had. "Fuck."

"Yes... but how? How in the Pillar's names did he do it?" The Colonel continued, "I mean, _hanar? Elcor?_ Even volus, for Paragon's sake! How did _they_ carve out an empire and take out the Blue Suns in _less than a year_?"

"They got vorcha as cannon fodder, and now, if the survivors from Stormwall are to be believed, fucking _Rachni,"_ Dietrich answered, spitting out his toothpick. "Explains how they swarmed over old Heinrich's mech units so fast."

"And whatever Con-Sec _cannot_ do openly, they have the _Immortals_ or Massani's 'Black Suns' to do for them," Rane added. "And _they_ at least know the rules by which warlords such as Aria and T'Ravt abide."

Dietrich grunted in agreement _._ "Not only those, but with the volus to fund them, and the hanar's damned Enkindlers, or Protheans, or _whatever you call them_ , supplying them with tech, if T'Ravt orders us to war with the Conclave, it will be a god-damn meat grinder if we didn't win the war in the first couple of weeks."

Which was doable... theoretically, but about a million different gambles would have to pay off and T'Ravt would never risk her empire on that.

"Speaking of the Lady's orders," Rane said, "May we have a word with the Commander in _private_?"

Nara nodded, then turned back to me as her lower eyes flicked to her armor. "I'm headed on a patrol to Antiva for the next few days. If my suit's not repaired when I return, I'm burning your fur Kean."

"If I fix it and you wreck again with your sand-swept idiocy, I'll blind your lower eyes with a welding torch Thui," I retorted, both of our mock threats resulting in amused grins from both ourselves and everyone else.

"Same time tomorrow, Kean?" Dietrich asked, collecting his leather jacket from the worn-out and oil-stained couch in the corner.

I nodded, puffing smoke. "Unless shit goes sideways tonight, or something comes up. I'll message you either way Deet."

The other human waved an arm behind him as he followed the Colonel out of the shop. I gave them a few moments to clear the area before turning back to my two remaining companions.

"I know that look," I said, nodding at my lover, "what's the word?"

Rane and Voya shared a look of slight amusement, then Voya answered, her tone one of bloodthirsty expectation. "The Warrior has been seen: Haskins system, in the Titan Nebula."

"Is that _confirmed?"_ I flicked my eyes back to Rane.

She nodded, "We have reports that definitely place his flagship within the Haskins system. He raided an T'Loak supply convoy bound for Omega, and the Lady's hackers got images of the _Star Hawk_ from the distress call."

Huh. That was... rather idiotic of him. He needed Aria's relays in order to get back to his regular patrolling grounds in the Traverse, near the humanity-hating, Hegemony-controlled planets that regularly offered he and his marauders asylum. Being greedy enough to steal Aria's eezo was... incredibly stupid of him really. And stupid Batarians didn't end up as warlords, even mid-sized ones in the Traverse.

He was up to something...

"How many other ships are with him?" I asked, frowning at nothing in particular. "How many men?"

Rane shook her head, dipping it apologetically. "Unknown."

"He won't be able to make it back to the Traverse," I thought aloud. "Not with Aria's fleet on high-alert after the Stormwall were lost. He'll need somewhere in the cluster to hide: a base to refit and reload before trying to make the run back to the Dark Rim."

Voya perked up, as if suddenly remembering something. "Hanhe-Kedar Industries is known to have a few manufacturing plants in those systems. He may be using one of them."

My lover frowned, but nodded. "That should be where they construct a large portion of their service and security mechs, assuming I am remember things correctly. He may be trying to supplement the firepower he's lost in the past several months."

"Check their records: see if they've lost contact with any of their installations in the past few days," I instructed. "Or if any go black in the future. Could give us a trail to follow."

Voya flicked her Omni-Tool open, fingers flashing across the panels as she quickly got to work. "So what does this mean for our plan?"

"Makes it easier," I shrugged. "We rig a remote-trawler to look like an automated supply ship intended for whatever facility the Warrior's taken. He's known to be reckless and likes to lead from the front, so there's a good chance he'll personally lead the boarding party. The second the cameras confirm he's on board...we blow the trawler. If he's on board, well and good: Job over. If not, the explosion will result in ripping open whatever ship he's got for support and we can confirm it later."

Voya crossed her arms, assuming a pouting expression. "Seems very...distant."

"You mean it seems like there's very little chance of you using getting a trophy with your knives?" asked Rane. "That's what makes it a _good_ plan."

"Where's your batarian sense of honor when it comes to blowing up a target from three systems away?" Voya complained, fiddling with her Omni-Tool all the while.

"If the Warrior didn't want to die, then he shouldn't have started behaving like a _chenethic_ asshole when every other warlord was looking for allies," I said dismissively. "And since when have my plans ever involved getting close to someone?"

Rane gave me a demure little smile, her lower eyes looking down at the ground while she arched her back subtly. "I can think of at least _one_ …"

"Oh, _Keelah_ : batarian flirting," Voya made a retching sound, only slightly spoiling the moment. "Please tell me you have something else for me to do, Kean? Something that doesn't involve me standing here watching you bite each other?"

"Go help the Kithans secure the perimeter for the banquet tonight," I suggested, my eyes leaving Rane's only to flick up and down her strong frame.

" _Ugh_ ," The Quarian grunted, closing her Omni-Tool and striding towards the door as she muttered. "At least those two have the decency to keep their sex lives to themselves…"

The heavy metal clanged shut behind her as Rane walked slowly closer to me, her posture shifting to become more submissive as she did. Her head shifted low and to the left, her hands remaining loose at her side as she kept her lower set of eyes firmly on the floor. "You really should shower, Cie, before presenting yourself to the Lady tonight."

"I'll just be providing security, thank the Pillars for small blessings," I said, slowly wrapping an arm around her waist, feeling the vibrating purr in her chest she pressed up against me. "Don't…need…to be fancy," I murmured quietly, the words half-catching in my throat. "And we've got… oh, hours yet before we need to be there."

"A very _long_ shower, then," Rane's teeth nibbled at the base of my neck, causing me to intake a breath sharply as her voice turned husky. "With company, if the Commander would approve of such a thing."

"I don't know," I mused, trying to keep my breath slow as she pressed closer against me. "I don't think I've worked up enough of a sweat to need a shower just yet…"

A rough batarian tongue licked the underside of my chin. "Challenge accepted, _ma'vhenan_."

My self-control found its end, and I let out a quiet growl as I fumbled at her clothing. Her head tilted all the way to the left, exposing the dominant side of her neck. I wasted little time in biting hard on the newly exposed skin, the pressure of my teeth making her gasp quietly as her hands impatiently joined mine in attempting to disrobe her.

Needless to say, by the time we were done, we both badly needed a shower... and said shower was just as enjoyable as what occurred before.

* * *

 **Reviewer Responses:**

Guest - We've got an outline for another two chapters. But this may just be the beginning of Kean's introduction into the Beacon's Effect Universe. We'll have to see.

griezz- This version of Cie also has another problem: He actually remembers his childhood, teenage years, and his time as a slave. And that ruthlessness has served him well. Then along come a man in a gold suit who tells that the Boogey-men are coming, so everyone needs to join his team NOW. Their incredulity could be forgiven (but not the Council's...)

Nagato21 - Well, this is the part of the story leading up to Ko'le/Kevin's mental breakdown. So...one second you have the young Earth gamer kid, the next you have the "SLAY THEM ALL", Scorched Earth Ko'le... so yeah, nobody's impressed with Ko'le at this point. Not even Ko'le.


	6. Chapter 6: Banquets and Biotics

***KO'LE***

"DAD! You look great!"

EDI's avatar walked slowly around me, taking in the Earth-fashion tuxedo I was wearing, as opposed to my Prothean dress robes in our first outing, or the armor I sported on our second. The armor I still wore, concealed under my jacket in the small of my back.

"I hope so," I said, looking into the mirror. "I have a lot of lost ground to make up. I have to literally find a second chance to make a first impression."

"Well, I think the Warlord will be impressed," EDI said. "You look like a star off a Blasto movie!"

I shot her a sideways glace.

"Not sure how to take that…"

A chime at the door interrupted whatever reply EDI was about to make.

"Enter."

The door opened to reveal Kolyat Krios, dressed in a two-tailed drell tux, standing at attention.

"The escort is here, Imperator."

"Turro and Major Koris?"

"Waiting on you, sir."

I nodded. "Carry on, Mr. Krios."

EDI gave me last critical look up and down before beaming a smile.

"Go get 'em, Dad."

I smiled back at her.

"Watch the ship while I'm gone. Don't let Joker do anything to it."

EDI rolled her eyes.

"I'll do my best, but no promises."

Kolyat and I rode the elevator down to the CIC level, where we found Turro'le and Elam'Koris waiting for us by the Normandy's gangplank. Turro was dressed in a long black robe that, as he walked, revealed itself to be a brilliant scarlet on the inside. This coupled with the high collar made him look uncommonly like an avian Count Dracula.

Elam'Koris' dress uniform was black with white accents, giving him a very muted yet dignified look.

"Ready to get this over with?" I asked, exhaling.

Elam and Turro nodded. I took my place at the doors and turned to my quarian companion.

"Elam," I said contritely. "I feel I owe you an apology, and my continued thanks."

The quarian looked surprised. "What for, sir?"

"You have consistently tried to warn me about life out here in the Terminus Systems. I have largely ignored your advice. That has resulted largely in a…a lesson in humility for me. And yet you've not complained once. Thank you."

Elam looked horribly uncomfortable, but then drew himself up and saluted.

"Thank you, _Imperator_. I am proud to be a role to play in my people's future."

I reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder.

" _Our_ people's future, Elam'Koris vas Qwib Qwib."

Turro nodded sagely as well, his head tilting to the right in approval.

"Now, let us take action to secure that future. Sergeant-Major, the deck is yours."

Pyke Morrell snapped to attention, saluting as we walked down the gangplank towards our awaiting escort.

Kean's familiar frame came into view, his tell-tale trenchcoat silhouette illuminated by the setting sun.

"Imperator," he said in his usual formal-yet-not tone, inclining his head _ever_ so slightly to the left in greeting.

"Commander," I replied in kind, giving him an equal nod to the right. When his eyes flicked over to the young drell, I gestured from one to the other.

"My aide: Corporal Kolyat Krios of the Illuminated Primacy."

I saw Kean's eyes flicker with recognition at the name "Krios."

 _Of course. In his line of work, who has_ _not_ _heard of Thane Krios?_

I nodded, almost imperceptibly, in confirmation.

"Miss Rane and Miss Voya do not accompany you tonight?"

His reply was short, as was his nod. "They are a providing security for the banquet tonight."

"You will not be joining us, then?"

His smile was one of amusement.

"I am more a man of action, _Imperator_. I have little time for idle amusement, unlike _others."_

With that not-so-veiled barb, we boarded the shuttle and set out for the palace T'Ravt had met us in before.

"I retrieved and read through your file, Commander," I said, breaking the silence of the shuttle-ride.

Kean's face turned with guarded curiosity. "Did you now?" he asked, sarcasm creeping into the edges of the question. "I did not think myself important enough to merit a file in the mighty Con-Sec's database…"

"It's quite impressive, and congratulatory," I informed him.

He replied with a derisive scoff.

"And now you believe you _know me_ because of what you read off a datapad?"

"Hardly," I answered. "I judge by what I have observed these past few days, compared to what I've read of your exploits. We are more alike than I care to admit, Cieran Kean."

Kean said nothing in reply, but his raised eyebrow and body language reflected he thought _very_ _little_ of that statement.

"Both of us were born into slavery," I continued. "Both of us have _suffered_ at the hands of lesser beings who presumed to call themselves our masters."

Even in the low light of the shuttle, I saw the pain of the memories flicker across the human's face momentarily, and his eyes and aura hardened and grew grim.

"And both of us have arisen to our current position by the strength of our own merit," I continued. "You have earned the confidence and the trust of your companions: a blind man could see that. And your brutal honesty has earned you the trust of the Lady Warlord. In another life…we might even have been friends, you and I."

Kean's eyes narrowed and he made no reply as the shuttle set down on the landing platform on the top of the fortress. Apparently we were trusted enough to land directly in the compound, rather than be marched through the front gates. I stood to my feet and exited behind the commander.

On the platform, Miss Ben'mass and Voya'Chi stood. Voya's eyes were focused squarely on Turro now, noting the absence of his "walking stick" with guarded caution and a glowering anger. Turro, on the other hand, simply nodded at the glaring quarian with his head cocked politely to the right in his people's equivalent of a smug grin.

"This is as far as I go," Kean said turning round to face us. "The Lady and her entourage await you through those doors." He gestured to the wide double-doors at the far side of the landing platform.

I nodded and began to walk that direction, then paused and turned back to Kean.

"I am not so much an ass that I do know when I have _been_ an ass, Commander Kean. I will remember our conversations long after I have left this planet. And for that, you have my thanks."

Before he could answer, I turned and strode towards the door, my three companions following close behind.

The doors opened, and the scene was _very_ different from the Spartan decoration of the Main Hall we had met in yesterday. Exquisite tapestries lined the walls, and jewel-encrusted vases and urns held a greenhouse of rare and exotic plants. At the far end of the hallway, two asari attendants bowed and opened the doors biotically.

"IMPERATOR KO'LE of the CONCLAVE!" a turian standing guard by the door announced loudly. I strode in, taking in the sight of the lavishly-decked banquet hall before us.

Lady Yan T'Ravt sat at the far side of the room, reclining on an exquisitely carved couch. Her dress was a brilliant purple, reaching down to her ankles in length and leaving her shoulders and arms bare. However, in an interesting departure from typical asari fashion, it covered her chest completely, coming up to join a choker-necklace of fine lace. The effect was one that generated an aura of mystery and attraction much more effectively than other more provocatively-dressed asari I had met.

Kaste sat on her right, in a full dress uniform that made him look very resplendent indeed. Glancing around the room, I also saw Reyja'krem Thul seated with another female batarian beside him.

"Imperator," T'Ravt said, her welcome warm and inviting. "Please, take your seat."

She gestured to the empty couch on her left. I nodded and walked forward to take her offered hand, this time pulsing a feeling of _hope_ and _admiration_. She smiled and pulsed back _welcome_ and… _attraction_?

I took my seat as my companions all bowed to the Lady, Turro earning an especially-bright smile from the warlord. When I introduced Kolyat, I saw the same _flicker_ of recognition at his surname. As he took his seat, servants appeared at our arms, offering food and drink. A red wine that I recognized as a Thessian variety was poured for me, T'Ravt eyeing me all the while.

"I must say, Imperator," she said, her eyes wandering up and then down my form, "the sight of you in modern dress is very… _striking."_

I smiled and nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment.

"You are too kind, Lady. The members of my staff have worked _very_ hard to bring me into the customs and fashions of this cycle. I fear I am a lost cause…"

The Lady gave a small laugh at my answer, then turned to gesture towards Kaste. "You of course remember General Kaste?"

"General," I greeted, nodding politely. He answered in kind and then gestured to the younger female turian beside him.

"My niece: Colonel Vithi Kaste."

The colonel nodded politely, obviously more comfortable in armor than the fine dress she currently sported.

"Honored, Imperator."

"Colonel," I replied, "You and your uncle's exploits on Redcliffe are well-known, even as far as Kahje. I am glad to finally put a face to the name."

She smiled and nodded again.

"And _Reyja'krem_ Thul also has a guest here," T'Ravt continued, gesturing to the batarian former priest, who locked his hands together in the customary greeting.

"Imperator: May I present my guest and fellow _Reyja'krem_ from the Batarian Hegemony: Ayle Ullayis."

I nodded, inclining my head to the right in greeting.

 _Another Reyja'krem? T'Ravt seems to amassing quite the collection._

 _Well, they are_ persona non grata _in most circles of the Hegemony right now…_

"The Pillars guide you, Reyja'krem Ayle," I said, switching to batarian for a moment.

Her polite leftward nod and smile showed no hint of surprise.

 _Thul has obviously forewarned her about me, then._

"And you, _Imperator_ ," she answered. "It is an honor to, as you say, 'put a face to the name.'"

The banquet began with several courses of what I assumed was local Xenthan cuisine. I couldn't help but smile as I watched the reactions of the Lady and the other guests at Turro's prehensile feathers carrying his food from plate to beak without so much as moving a single limb. The sight was, to the unprepared or unfamiliar, quite mesmerizing, though they all managed to avert their curiosity in the name of politeness.

"I have heard congratulations are in order, Imperator," General Kaste said, breaking his attention away from the Raloi. "The news reached us that the Conquest shipyards have fallen to the Conclave as well."

I nodded in confirmation, pretending to be impressed. I had ordered Con-Sec to leak the fresh report to Citadel sources, where I was supremely confident, and now only more so, that T'Ravt had her agents in place.

"You are well informed, General. The 9th Battle Group caught the remainder of die Waffe's battle fleet above the planet Y-328. After a short but hard-fought battle, the 9th proved victorious."

T'Ravt nodded as I gave her confirmation of her own reports. "Impressive. I am surprised that die Waffe did not destroy the shipyards and make a run for the Dark Rim, given his position."

I weighed my answer, not wanting to betray the fact that die Waffe had actually done just that. Blake had placed her army between him and the relay offering escape, however. He had had literally nowhere else to go, or else I'm very sure that's exactly what he would have done.

"He seemed to be in the process of doing that very thing, when the Conclave fleet came out of FTL. The Steel King put up a legendary fight: the remnants of his fleet only surrendered after learning of their leader's death during the battle's final hours."

Now T'Ravt pretended to be surprised at the news of her fellow warlord's death.

"That is _confirmed?_ " Kaste asked, leaning forward.

"It is, I'm afraid," I answered. "His body is already being taken to back to Earth, to be laid to rest beside his family."

Thul nodded deeply. "A noble gesture indeed, for a fallen enemy, Imperator. The Pillar of Strength would approve."

I shrugged, holding my hands palms-upward. "It was only fate that had made us enemies, Reyja'krem. He was a brave adversary, and that is a quality I admire, regardless of who bears it."

T'Ravt raised her glass for one of the servants to refill. "And yet bravery makes for a poor compass in a storm."

I smiled at the old asari proverb, taking another sip of my own wine.

There were multiple other small-talk conversational topics brought up and exhausted over the course of the next hour or so, Kaste commenting on battle tactics, Thul asking and answering questions of Turro'le (in regards to their respective religions), and the Lady inquiring of Elam about the Migrant Fleet's settling of Ilos, the last of which, I noted, was an extremely subtle attempt to obtain more information about the hitherto-still unknown location of the quarian colony.

One topic that did interest me was when the political situation of the Hegemony was discussed.

"It's true, unfortunately," Thul answered Elam, "Without the leadership of a Hegemon, the Greater and Lesser Houses bicker amongst themselves, forgetting the words of the Pillars of Kin, of Heart, and of Strength. There are many who view the very office of Reyja'krem with disgust, claiming us to be blasphemous interpretations of the Pillar of Kin, 95th ring, 27th line, 'Those from afar…'"

"Thul," Ayle interrupted, politely, "Perhaps an in-depth discussion on the tenets of the Pillars might be delayed for _another_ time?"

Thul nodded, both at his companion and at Lady T'Ravt, "Quite so. Forgive me, my passion sometimes gives undue length to my words."

"As they should, Reyja'krem," Turro said with a polite bow. "My people have a proverb: He who speaks without passion has nothing to say of note."

Thul smiled broadly, nodding at the Raloian.

"So you have been exiled from the Hegemony?" Kolyat asked.

"Nothing so formal as that," Ayle answered. "It has simply been made…abundantly clear that non-batarians holding our office are no longer welcome within the Hegemony's borders. Those of us who disagree with these… _conservative_ s," she stated, biting back the curse on her tongue's edge, "are made partners in the prejudices they harbor towards the aliens of our rank: our brothers and sisters."

"You are to be commended," I replied, lifting my wine-glass at the pair. "The galaxy always has need of those who are willing to stand for their beliefs in unity and brotherhood."

The batarian pair nodded politely at my praise.

As the desert course was served, T'Ravt leaned over and placed a gentle arm on my own.

"Imperator, are you familiar with the Xenthan moon orchids?"

I gently placed my own hand over hers, receiving a pulse of _solidarity_ and… _invitation._

"I must confess not, my Lady," I answered truthfully.

"Oh, you simply _must_ come, then," she said, rising to her feet, waving down Kaste and the others as they attempted to rise with her. "It is a sight you will _long_ _remember_ …I promise you."

"Of course, Lady," I said, offering my arm as I rose, "Lead on, prithee."

Giving my companions a nod instructing them to stay behind, the asari warlord led me, arm in hand, through a small door in the wall behind us. As we stepped through, the door closed behind us. Two of Xentha's three moons were full tonight, flooding the room with moonlight and rendering any additional lighting unnecessary.

"I must confess my knowledge of xenobotany to be limited," I stated, smiling. "But the inhabitants of this room appear to be more closely related to _ferns_ , rather than orchids."

T'Ravt returned my smile, nodding.

"I thought it was high time we had a conversation," she answered, her tone losing its formal tone, "Away from the eyes and ears of others…Ko'le. May I call you _Ko'le?_ "

I nodded.

"I would be honored if you would do so. There is indeed much we could discuss, Lady Yan."

She smiled and nodded in tacit approval of our newfound familiarity, walking away a few paces, her hands reaching out to brush the fronds of one of the many plants in the room.

"There has always been a place like the Terminus throughout galactic history, Ko'le," she began, her voice low, "Where people who reject and shun an 'ordered life' have congregated. A wild Frontier: untamed, unexplored, unconquered. If I were to accept your offer, and bring my ships and territories to the Conclave, it would be bringing an end to that very way of life. It would mark one less place in the galaxy where one is free to pursue their own destiny, free from the laws and dictations of others. The loss of their own freedom to preserve their unique way of life.

She turned slowly, crossing her arms as she faced me.

"It is no small thing you ask of me: to put the lives of myself and my followers into the hands of strangers. There is no one on the Circle that has my trust…or my confidence..."

She took a step forward, giving me a million-credit smile as she placed a hand on my chest. Not seductively or provocatively…simply…regally. An act carefully measured to generate intimacy, and therefore, trust.

"...except yourself, of course. But I know the office of the Imperator cannot always be called upon for political matters."

I took a deep breath before answering her.

"What do you suggest then, Lady Yan?" I asked, keeping my voice even as I tried to anticipate her answer.

T'Ravt looked down and floor, then back up at my face, smiling slyly.

"A Seat on that Circle," she answered, her tone growing more serious. "General Petrovsky sits and speaks for the Conclave's holdings in the Traverse. With myself speaking for and governing the Terminus Systems, my people would know that their best interests were being attended to, and their concerns had a ready ear and voice within the Conclave government."

She grinned, somewhat mirthlessly.

"My people would never stand for anything that would make them what the Council might call ' _civilized_ people', Ko'le. But if they had a voice in the Circle, I would be able to present that as remaining a tacit level of independence to my people, while assuring the other members of the Circle that I will work to contain and limit… certain practices that we _both_ find reprehensible."

I smiled. It was certainly bold move and a bold request, but certainly not out of character for someone such as her. This was also far beyond the scope of something I could agree to, even within the office of the Imperator. And there was certainly no way that Petrovsky or Korlack would consent to a warlord of the Terminus joining the Circle, on the mere promise that she would _try_ to curb the slave and spice trade that was the bread and butter of the Terminus Systems.

It was in short, a sensible offer that she knew good and well had no chance of success.

Much like mine had been.

But it bought her time to strengthen her own position here in the Terminus, to fill the vacuum of power that Gormak and die Waffe had left behind.

"That is…a request equal to the action," I answered after a moment. "Unfortunately, it is one that is beyond my capability to accept or deny. However, when next the Circle meets in full, I will bring your offer to the table, to be given the grave consideration that it is due."

T'Ravt nodded, smiling as she took another sip of her wine. She walked forward slowly, taking a place at my side. Her hand moved to touch my shoulder in another carefully calculated gesture.

"I have no doubt you shall represent the Terminus System's best interests to the Circle. You speak with a compelling earnestness and honesty, Ko'le."

"And naiveté."

T'Ravt made no reply, but gave me a questioning look.

"It has been pointed out to me that…I have forgotten the other side of the coin that is diplomacy. I feel I have been dealing with the child-like idiocy of the Council and their hordes of sycophants and toadies too long. You are neither of these, nor do you desire them. You surround yourself with warriors such as Kaste, or…honest men such as Commander Kean. And I came to you with honeyed words and promises: empty things, unbecoming a lady of your station, or a general of my authority."

T'Ravt said nothing, but reclined on the lounge chair by the window, regarding me with a look she had not given to me before.

I brought my arm up, activating my Omni-Tool.

"I have given this information to the Council. And Commander Shepard no doubt gave it to the Alliance High Command. And yet both of them, in their _infinite_ _wisdom_ …"

T'Ravt gave a ghost of a smile at my sarcasm.

"…have elected to ignore it. It is my second gift to you, my lady. This one comes with no strings attached, and nothing asked in return. I give it to you, in the hopes that you and your engineers may make something of it, and be better prepared for the fight that is to come."

Suddenly, T'Ravt's own Omni-Tool _beeped_ , and she looked down at her wrist, mostly I think in surprise that I had discovered her private OT-address. She set her wineglass down on the windowsill and, with a coy look that might have been somewhere between _annoyed_ and _impressed_ , she projected the file I had just sent her onto the nearby table-top holo.

A large image of a Reaper appeared above the table. Its tentacles opened, and a giant red laser flashed, cutting a nearby image of a turian cruiser in two. T'Ravt let out an _almost_ inaudible gasp she took a step forward, hands gripping the edge of the table.

" _This is…_ " T'Ravt said, her voice dropping to a serious tone of surprise, "This is a recording of _Sovereign_. At the battle of the Citadel."

"In point of fact, it is a full tactical readout of _Nazara_ ," I answered. "A Reaper of Dark Space: A member of a sentient race of machines that I fought in a war that has lasted every day that I have been alive."

T'Ravt reached forward, manipulating the image with a technical dexterity that belied her high-class status. She turned and zoomed in on different aspects of Nazara, revealing attached files containing every detail the Protheans had known about the inside of a Reaper, its weapons, and its capabilities.

Which after three hundred and sixty-eight years of war, was quite a lot.

" _No one_ has this data," T'Ravt said, turning to look back at me, the pretense and games she had been juggling so admirable only moments ago dropped. "Not C-Sec, not the Spectres, not even the Shadow Broker himself."

I thought of Liara opening a request from T'Ravt, asking for information on Sovereign and the battle of the Citadel. I bit back my smile and nodded.

"I am the _Seneschal_ of the Prothean Empire, Lady T'Ravt. My people fought these abominations in a losing war for three centuries. _Everything_ we learned of them in that time is yours for the asking."

Now the suspicion and disbelief were back and back in force. "Why?"

"Because war is coming again, Yan T'Ravt," I replied. "And not between the Conclave and your empire you have built. Not between Aria and the Eclipse's Golden Fleet, nor between the fools on the Council and the squabbling idiots of the Hegemony. It will be a war between every living, breathing, sentient being in this galaxy, and a race of machines programmed to do one thing and one thing only: Destroy. It will be a war the likes of which no being alive in this cycle has ever seen: A war to the knife. A war to the last city, to the last ship, and to the last man.

It is for _this reason_ I have built the Conclave. For this reason, I do wage war upon those who attempt divide the galaxy's attention; who insist on focusing on meaningless squabbles for power and bits of turf.

I care nothing for power, Lady, and I do not _need_ your planets. Ere the end, we will need each other, if we are to truly save the people we claim to rule."

The Lady Warlord opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again. Her eyes flicked to the window.

"Do you hear that?"

I was about to answer to the negative when the first explosion rocked the fortress.

* * *

 ***CIERAN KEAN***

I'd give the attackers their due; they definitely weren't idiots.

No fewer than six car-bombs hit the mansion's perimeter simultaneously, all of them from ground vehicles that entirely avoided the extensive anti-air protection that we'd put into place. We lost a good quarter of the perimeter guard to the blasts, with only a few of them being quick enough to even radio warnings. Worse, the blasts had been deliberately scattered around the exterior in a way clearly designed to force us to spread out to cover the massive grounds rather than letting us focus on a specific area.

"Code seven!" I snapped into my helmet, "Code seven! All defenders fall back to the mansion! Sound the general alarm and get the Talon teams down here!"

 **" _This is Control; we confirm code seven! Routing…"_ T**he Quarian's voice trailed off before rising in alarm. " ** _We've got an unresponsive cargo hauler descending towards the Kaste grounds!"_**

My head jerked up and around, trying to pick out the appropriate running lights out of the night's sky. "Bring it down! And put the city into full lockdown!"

Rather than waste any words confirming the order, he simply cut the line. A few moments later the valley began to echo with the howling raid alarms, and the deep roar of heavy anti-air guns. The heavy tracers roared to the northwest before detonating against the shielding of our bogey, the flashes revealing a stupidly massive ore hauler that was already low in the sky and dropping fast.

Panic nearly set in as it looked like it was heading right for us, intending to simply obliterate the entire complex in a heavy crash. Then, as the GARDIAN lasers from the mountains and mounted on the Academy ziggurat near the river kicked in, it began to bank right as fire blossomed along its starboard side, entire sections blowing out to rain metal on the city below. Around it, the other air traffic began to shift into abrupt dives as the automated alarms shouted warnings on every radio channel that anything in the air was about to be blasted to pieces.

"We've got incoming!" Someone screamed a mere second before gunfire began to crackle, jerking my attention back to terrestrial matters.

Skidding to a stop near the main doors, I spun around and motioned Rane and Voya past me as I took stock of what I could see. Darting, furtive shapes were moving in the nearest two wall breaches, using the rubble as cover as they took potshots at us.

"Sitrep, who are they?" I demanded as I rose my left hand. The spinning blue lights of my omni-tool flickered to life as my fingers twitched, sending an overload streaking out to detonate above one of the figures. It jerked back in alarm, they spun wildly when one of the mansion's defenders fired off a short burst that must have caught them.

 **" _I've got a scope on them."_** Someone else reported tightly. **" _Mismatched armor, looks like pirates."_**

That didn't track. No pirate group operating on Xentha would be so stupid as to try and kill T'Ravt unless they were being offered a fortune, and protection in case they failed. And there was a very short list of people strong enough that pirates, wary from the conclave's expansion and counter-piracy efforts, would believe in enough to make the attempt... but why would they try for her now?

 _Because the Imperator is here, you fucking idiot._

"Either Aria or Zaen is taking a swing at us." I growled. "Be on the alert for commandos or krog-"

The massive freighter came down before I could finish the statement. It had evidently made a final effort to land on top of or near the mansion in its last moments in the air, because it landed broadside to the northeastern wall, maybe a block away in a titanic roar of noise and dust.

"That's mostly intact." Voya had to scream to be heard, even with our helmet radios. "I don't think it was a suicide run!"

Which meant it was probably hauling troops of some kind. _Fucking lovely._

 **" _Kean."_** The Warlord snapped into my ear. **_"Situation?"_**

"One second." I snapped back, more concerned with keeping her alive than answering her questions. By that point the gunfire had become a steady chatter, the guards inside of the building moving to the exterior firing points to keep the attackers at bay. Rane was settled into a shooting crouch, keeping the group I'd thrown a tech mine at pinned. "Voya, get inside and organize the sharpshooters on the upper levels. Focus fire on anyone giving orders or looking like they know what they're doing."

"On it." She growled, slipping inside even as she pulled her Viper off of her back.

"Rane." I continued. "Get the Kithans on the line, I want each of you three to split the guard and cover two breaches each. If they mount a push set off the alert and get everyone inside, use the interior defenses to cut them open. And tell someone to get every armed unit in the city moving in our direction, I'm going to get to the Warlord and make sure she doesn't do something reckless."

There was an irritated sound, followed by somebody letting out a chocked laugh. " ** _I heard that Kean."_**

"Good." I muttered before raising my voice as I got moving, half-listening to Rane shouting orders even as I moved inside. I hated not having her by my side in a fight, but she was more than capable of handling herself. "We've got pirates pinning us down, and a cargo freighter just came down in the neighborhood to the northeast. It's probably got reinforcements aboard."

 **" _Your plan?"_**

"Hold the mansion until the Talon teams and the nearest regiment can scramble here." My feet carried me down the entry hall, accelerating as I headed towards the main ballroom. "Declared a code seven and full lockdown, the air should already be clear if you want an aerial exit."

She said nothing for several moments, likely considering whether or not to take that risk. But the next female voice that spoke wasn't the Warlords, instead Voya snarled into the open line. " ** _Cie, we've got-_!"**

I jerked as feedback abruptly assaulted my eardrums, my armor only belatedly cutting the line as it recognized it was being jammed. It automatically cycled through a dozen more channels before my HUD flashed red to indicate that I was cut off entirely.

Letting out a snarl of pure frustration and anger, I put on more speed, flying past the ostentatious displays before bursting into the main room. The dinner party had consolidated themselves near the arching columns in the back, though I did blink slightly at the sight of the Imperator in full armor rather than the tux I'd last seen him in.

He had a gleaming omni-blade extended from one wrist, though no visible firearm. Koris had much the same, while the bird looked unarmed. At least the Drell had an actual pistol: though it was a tiny concealed little thing, it was an actual gun. For our side, everyone but the Warlord had drawn at least a pistol, with Vithi having pulled a short-barreled shotgun from the folds of her dress.

"We can't call for air extraction if we're being jammed." The Neanderthal spoke through his helmet, "Do you have armor? Our best chances would be…"

I tuned him out in favor of focusing on the room proper. The side doors were all shut and sealed, which was good. The servants had been dismissed, left to head to the building's shelter, another good. We didn't need them underfoot. But as a fighting position went, it left a lot to be desired. No cover, no firing positions… we needed to leave.

"Upstairs. I need to coordinate with Voya, and you all need armor." I interrupted them all mid-discussion. T'Ravt gave me a slightly arch look that I returned with a right leaning tilt of my helmet. She'd put me in charge of her safety, which meant I was going to do what I thought best, regardless of whether or not she liked it. "You can argue about it there."

All of the Lady's people started moving, including her, and the Conclave delegation belatedly followed when they realized that she wasn't going to argue with me about it.

"My people will have noticed the jamming," The Imperator resumed as we got moving, Colonel Kaste joining me out front. "They'll be sending-"

"No one." The Warlord interrupted politely but firmly. "The Commander executed a code seven. Anything airborne will be engaged and destroyed, and we have no ability to countermand that."

"Land lines… will have been cut." He finished his own statement. "Dammit."

"Warnings sound continuously." Thul rumbled, evidently hoping to keep the Imperator's spirits up. "They'll know not to try and lift off."

From the look that the bird and the young Krios shared, they weren't terribly reassured by that statement. Inside my helmet, I grimaced a little as the reminder that their ship's dock was packed with enough explosives to turn a heavy cruiser into confetti. If they tried to lift off…

I shook off that thought as I took the stairs two at a time, hearing everyone else pounding up them after me. Taking a left at the top of them, I slowed a little to make sure everyone was keeping up. Not that many did, it was mostly due to the stairwell congesting the group enough to make traversing it awkward.

"We go to the armory, you to the balcony?" Vithi asked, her shotgun held tightly in her grip.

"For a start." I grunted. "Once you and the others are plated up, then we take everyone with us back downstairs and organize for a push south."

"Following the Imperator's plan? T'Ravt asked calmly.

I had no idea what his plan was, given that I'd been ignoring him at the time. Fortunately, or unfortunately rather, I was saved from having to work out a response to that by the sight of a servant stepping out from a guard alcove as we approached.

"Commander Kean." The human woman gasped, "Thank god, I was-"

My gun snapped up and fired before she could finish the sentence, taking her in the chest. She shrieked and went down, hands trying to grab for something on her belt. Rather than let her, I shifted my aim and put my second round into her gut. Her body convulsed, revealing shattered body armor beneath her plain clothes, blood emerging from her mouth as she gasped.

"Infiltrators in the building." I growled, pulling the trigger a third time to finish her off. "Imperator, grab her gun, everyone else into cover."

The golden armored figure stared at the body, then jerked his head around as he moved forwards. "There's more nearby, at least six. How did you know?"

"She should have already had her gun drawn." I replied, keeping my eyes up. "How do you know there are six?"

"It's a-" A tiny blur around a corner ahead was followed by the quiet tinking of a grenade bouncing along the floor. Both he and T'Ravt reflexively hurled hands out to throw it back, only for it to detonate in a disorienting _crack_ before they could.

The Imperator recoiled and staggered as if he'd just been shot, while the Warlord merely let out an annoyed grunt. Two more of the nullification grenades immediately sailed down the hallway, and I heard Ayle call out a warning from behind us before more of the muted explosions made me curse.

Jerking a hand up, I barely grabbed onto the stumbling Neanderthal and shoved him sideways before another infiltrator arrived in the blurred motion of a biotic charge.

The Asari's shotgun roared through the space that the Imperator had just occupied, and someone let out a quiet grunt of pain. Realizing her primary target had shifted, she began to twist left to bring her gun into line before her eyes widened in horror and she lurched backwards. She was fast about it too, fast enough to dodge most people.

The Warlord wasn't most people. Purple blood flew in an arc as T'Ravt surged forwards on long legs, the sword she'd drawn from the folds of her dress flashing a second time to properly decapitate the attacker. Behind us I heard shouts and gunfire, but I had to trust that they could handle whatever it was and focus on what was ahead.

Surging forwards, I brought my gun up as the Asari nimbly spun in a billow of her dress to let me pass and meet the rush of the follow-up attack head on.

Two Batarians were rushing forwards, one already primed to toss a nullifier to keep anyone from using their biotics. Since I didn't have any, I ignored him and put my first shot into the man on the right. He stumbled as the hand cannon's round caught him in the shoulder, his submachine gun fire splaying shots wildly across my barriers as I closed the distance on him.

He tried to gut me with his omni-bayonet, making me sneer as I effortlessly batted away the weapon with the back of my left hand before shoving my gun into his face and yanking the trigger. Not waiting to see him fall, I snapped my attention to the left and flicked my omni-tool to life as the nullification grenade whipped past me.

My incinerate hit him before he could even try to bring the pistol in his other hand in my direction, the explosion scorching my armor even as it burned through his exposed flesh.

But while my armor blunted the worst of the flash, it still left me blind for a brief moment. A brief moment that heard a roaring bellow before something massive sent me flying backwards. I hit somebody, my curses joining the Imperator's as we both went down to the ground.

I managed to get my head up in time to see the massive Krogan, ( _and where the fuck had_ _he_ _come from_?) bear down on the slender figure of the Warlord. Disdaining to use its rifle, it let out a bellowing warcry as it charged.

T'Ravt offered it a single twirling salute of her bloody blade, and then she was moving. Diving low and to the right, she vanished into a guard's alcove as her weapon flicked out to catch it on its left arm with a flurry of sparks. Another bellow sounded as it skidded to a stop, and then began to turn its massive bulk around.

Unfortunately for him, the Warlord was already moving again. A blue hand caught its left shoulder, and then she was actually hanging on its back as it spun and snarled in frustration. Her other hand quickly brought her short sword around, the point shoving hard into back of the Krogan's neck. Screaming in pain, it tried to throw itself back to smash her against the wall, but once again she was already shifting.

A fighter's grin on her dark lips, she hurled herself down and over its shoulder, grabbing her blade with both hands as all of her weight was transferred to the hilt.

Orange blood fountained out as she hit the ground rolling, already spinning again, ready to fight. Krogan were tough, but not so tough as to survive having most of their neck cut open. It staggered, tried to get its weapon up, and then simply collapsed in a titanic clatter of noise.

"Sitrep?" T'Ravt asked as she stepped forwards, driving her blade right through the glass protecting the fallen man's left eye.

"Annoyed." I muttered, finally extracting myself from the Imperator as we both staggered to our feet. "You?"

"Same." He growled, his voice low and far more dangerous than I'd heard from him before. "What were those grenades?"

"Nullifiers. They kill biotics, short term only." I replied as I turned to look behind us. If what was in front was a mess, what was behind was worse. Another dead Krogan was half out of the stairwell, with at least four more disguised servants covering the hallways' floor. "Shit. Everyone alive?"

"No." Vithi Kaste snapped from where she was crouched, applying a makeshift bandage to her uncle's left leg. "We need medical supplies."

"Armory." Thul grunted. The big man was leaning against the wall, letting Ayle tie something around one of his arms. "Should have medigel."

The Imperator stepped forwards, "She said 'no', who is…?"

I flicked my eyes down to see the young Krios kneeling over the Quarian diplomat. Koris was face down, a bloody crater just to the right of his spine where a shotgun round had torn through his decorative but unarmored suit. He'd probably never even felt the blow, not that that was any consolation.

"Seneschal…" The bird began to whistle, only to fall silent when a low, vicious sound came from the armored form. It was almost like a growl but… it was different. It was too deep, to animalistic, too… _primal_. Sapient beings didn't make noises like that. Instinct told me to get the fuck away, and I trusted them enough to do so, falling back to where T'Ravt was standing as green light began to swirl around the Imperator's arms.

"Imperator." The Warlord kept her voice even, though she also shifted herself into a ready position. "We need to-"

" _ANIMALS!_ _He was OURS!"_ I nearly pointed my gun at him in shock at the guttural shout, blinking as the man snapped his helmet around. " _Turro! The wounded!"_

And then, without another fucking word, he turned his body to face T'Ravt and I. I had enough time to blink before both the Warlord and I were slammed against the walls as he flickered past us in a green-tinged surge of biotics. The window framing the far wall shattered as he blurred out of them and into the night, letting in the sound of increasing battle.

Said sounds paused when a deep roar bellowed out words in a language my translator couldn't process, and then… people started screaming.

"Krios." T'Ravt snapped out her own orders as she started moving towards the new opening. "Kean, with me. Colonel Kaste, you and the Raloi get the wounded to shelter."

The Drell paused, glancing at the taller alien, but nodded when the Raloi simply bent down to help Vithi get her uncle to his feet. Grunting, I pushed off from the wall I'd fallen against, and quickly fell into step with him as we followed the Lady. Despite very much wanting to grab the kid and demand some answers, the increasing rush of gunfire and explosions outside reminded me that there was more important crap to focus on.

T'Ravt slid to a stop at the edge, staring out into the night as a flash of green illuminated her features. "Young one, can you control him?"

His throat worked in a heavy swallow. "I… no, Lady. Maybe someone on the ship-"

"They are unavailable." She reminded him sharply. "If I must use force to protect myself or mine, I will expect your cooperation."

Another swallow, followed by a jerky nod that made me wonder just how old he was. "What do you need of me?"

"Keep my right side clear. Dear Cieran will take the left." Shifting her blade to her right hand, she lifted her left. "I will lower us. Step off on my signal."

Jumping out into open air was always disconcerting, and despite trusting her I still wasn't comfortable relying solely on her power to stop me from dropping. This particular time wouldn't have killed me, or probably even broken anything, but I was still grateful when my feet hit the ground, though the irony of that feeling considering we were now in the middle of a battlefield was not lost on me.

Luck had seen us exit on the northeastern side, the burning hulk of the fallen freighter illuminating the conflict.

Spindly combat mechs had joined the pirates, their guns firing in controlled bursts as the figure whirled amongst them. Green light flashed in reply, biotic strikes shredding flesh and metal alike as barriers easily absorbed the counter attacks. The same guttural voice echoed with mocking laughter the Conclave's leader slaughtered everything that got close to him.

Then there was yet another soft _crack_ , and the green swirls of power winked out.

A howl of frustrated rage sounded in time with a more conventional blue flash as an Asari closed the distance with him, her shotgun catching him across the upper chest. He staggered, but his armor seemed to withstand the shot as he hurled himself at her in a tackle more fueled by rage than skill. The commando deftly swirled in an acrobatic move, catching one of his legs with her own and sending him tumbling to the ground before bringing her gun around to finish him off.

Just ahead of me, the Warlord deftly tossed her sword forwards before shoving her right hand palm out. The blade turned into a gleaming silver spear as her biotics hurled the weapon into the woman's back.

The impact flung her over the fallen Imperator, the sword protruding grotesquely between her breasts as she rolled on her back, convulsing as she died.

"Imperator!" T'Ravt snapped as the three of us rushed forwards, my gun barking as I fired measured shots at distant enemies still trying to recover from the insane assault. "Come to your senses!"

He snarled something in that strange tongue, springing to his feet as power again rippled around his body.

In response, she drew another blade then snapped her head up as she let out a very unladylike curse. "Kean."

"I see them." I ground out, staring at the trio of heavy combat mechs as they prowled forwards. One simply stepped on a bullet riddled ground car, crushing it entirely as it raised its arms to aim the built-in weapons towards us. "Krios, run left!"

To the kid's credit, he didn't panic or need to be told twice, and we were both quickly darting in that direction, his little pistol chattering as he shot it at the lead machine, while I began tossing overloads as rapidly as my equipment could trigger them. For her part, the Warlord stepped forwards and seized the Imperator by wrapping an arm around his chest. Before he could do more than growl something incomprehensible, the pair of them vanished as she hurled them into cover with her biotics.

She landed deftly in a crouch behind what was left of the outer wall. But somewhere in the process the Imperator had gotten free, or she'd simply let go, so instead of landing gracefully he went sailing right into the stone and metal with a crash before dropping limply to the ground.

Krios and I took a little longer, and I slowed up enough to let the shorter man use me as cover as incoming fire began to hammer at my barriers. Hurling myself into cover just as they gave out entirely, I cursed as I scrambled backwards. "They'll be around the corner in a few moments."

She nodded, instructions coming hard and fast as she turned away from the slowly recovering Ko'le. "I need overloads on the first to appear. Krios, focus on its head."

"What about-"

"Focus!" I snapped, slapping his right shoulder as the footfalls grew louder. "Or we're dead. We've done this before."

Though that time there had only been two mechs, not three. And we'd had a full Talon team plus all of my people with. And the Warlord had been wearing more armor than whatever she was concealing beneath her dress. Then again, she couldn't carry all three of us with her if she left, and she'd given the Imperator her word of safe conduct when he'd landed.

An electronic blare heralded the first machine as it stepped through the gap, its armor pitted even as more sniper rounds hammered into it from the mansion. Switching strategies even before the Warlord began to move, I triggered an incinerate even as the Drell kid started shooting. The explosion hit right at a weak spot in its right shoulder, shearing the limb away even as gunshots hammered at the armored plates protecting its main sensor array.

For her part, the Warlord paused for a long moment, waiting for the mech to begin to turn, to take a step before she let out a guttural sound of focus as she flung a biotic strike at its chest.

Even an Asari Matriarch would be hard pressed to throw something as heavy as the mech, but with its barriers down and with one leg in the air, it was more than enough to unbalance it. With a shrieking sound of protest, it fell back, audibly crashing into one if its fellows.

But before she and I could rush forwards to perform part two, cutting and shooting out the servos and hydraulic in their legs to stop the big machines from standing, yet _another_ guttural howl heralded the Imperator's return to the fight.

The golden figure shot past all three of us, skidded to a stop in the middle of the gap, and then hurled itself out of sight.

" _Athame's sacred azure_." The Warlord spat as she darted after him, no sign of her usual culture as her own biotics began to swirl around her in an aurora of blue light as her anger rose. Krios and I belatedly followed her, only to flinch back as a shard of mech armor nearly decapitated the Drell.

A fluctuating roar heralded the death of the other prone mech, the Imperator sending flaming gouts of warp energy down into its chest as he stood upon its shattered remains. He was turning to face the last opponent still standing, only to flinch as the thunder of heavy gun hammered at his barriers. Then he flared his biotics with a monumental effort, _lifting_ the entire damn thing off the ground, then flung it into the sole remaining mech to send it flying onto its back.

"Kalahira…"

The drell's expression as the religious phrase escaped him looked as dumbstruck as I'm sure mine was. Which didn't bode well, to say the least: it meant that even the Imperator's own people didn't know he was capable of this, and more importantly, didn't know how to bring the rabid beast in front of us _down_ from his Blood Rage.

The three of us stood there, not sure about what we'd just witnessed. The Lady shook herself free of the confusion first, shooting me a look as the Imperator took a knee, winded by with the colossal energy he'd just expended, his head twitching towards the other breaches in the wall, evidently trying to decide what breach to head to next.

"Kean." T'Ravt spoke my name quietly. I flicked my eyes at her in time to see her jerk her chin towards him.

Swallowing a little, I exhaled then casually swept my left arm over my belt and palmed a nullification grenade. The moment the Imperator's helmet wasn't looking my direction, I tossed it underhand at his feet. He reacted at once to the noise of it landing, trying to biotically charge away before it went off.

He wasn't quite fast enough, instead managing to blur then seem to snap back into focus as he tumbled the ground next to myself and Krios. The kid jerked his gun at me just as I did the same, both of us staring down each other's pistols as the Warlord flickered in a biotic charge of her own.

The Imperator was rising when T'Ravt blitzed forward, sending both her fists into the kneeling man's chest. The golden-armored figure went headfirst into the nearby wrecked air-car, and went motionless.

 _Just_ as the mech began to regain its feet.

The drell's eyes darted from me to the mech, and back to me.

"Oh, fuck me."

He shifted his pistol from me to the more immediate threat, his tiny pistol not doing much more than attracting the giant mech's attention. My left arm was rising to start triggering overloads when the situation changed _again,_ with another large caliber weapon sounding off as the mech recoiled from the barrage from its right. Light caliber missiles promptly followed, streaking in to tear into it, a limb flying into the street as it fell back, trying to re-aim its gun. A veritable flood of firepower prevented it from doing so, tearing through the armor in short order and sending the mech to the ground.

Blinking, I could only slowly lower my left arm and stare as elements of the Warlord's army pounded down the street, their white armor clashing with several figures in very different colors.

 _Black and gold…whose…?_

Then I saw an armored vorcha directing a column towards the distant flashes of gunfire.

Conclave.

 _Shit. Damn. And. Fuck._

Just what we needed right now.

"Kolyat!" Their leader called out, her voice synthesized heavily by her helmet as she approached. "Are you alright? Where is-?"

She stopped speaking as the group assembled took in the sight of the prone figure of their Imperator, only a few meters away from the Lady Warlord. The Lady's biotics faded, and she slowly turned back and faced the young drell, who suddenly looked like he very much wanted to be somewhere else in that moment.

 _Anywhere else_.

"I." She spoke in a deadly quiet voice that carried easily in the shocked silence that followed. "Would very much like a few answers, Mr. Krios..."

* * *

 **Author's Note: I hope you guys enjoyed this action-packed chapter! :D Lot went down, including a certain quarian crewman...**

 **FF is having problems again with the reviews (The system says they are there, but I cannot see any of them, and I'm not getting email alerts about any new alerts).**

 **For now, please review/PM and I will reply as soon as the servers work their issues out...**

 **Thanks, everybody! YOU GUYS ROCK!**

 **-Tusken1602**


	7. Chapter 7: Vengeance and Fire

***KO'LE***

Pain was the first thing that I awoke to. The light that trickled through my cracked eyelids sent daggers of pain into my skull. I groaned and put my palms over my eyes, trying hard to block out the sunlight.

If only I could block the memories of last night so easily.

I remembered seeing Elam'Koris vas Qwib Qwib, lying in a blue pool of his own blood. But after that…

After, I could remember only the screams of the dying and the silence of the dead.

"You're awake." The words came as a statement of fact, rather than a question.

"Lady T'Ravt." Wincing, I opened my eyes to see that the Lady Warlord was now dressed in a light suit of utility armor; the twin short swords she had wielded to deadly effect last night now openly sported on her hips. She walked over and handed me a cup of something that I assumed was the Xenthan equivalent of coffee.

"What happened?" I asked, sitting up stiffly in my suit of armor.

"Apologies for leaving you in your armor," T'Ravt said, ignoring the question. "It seems none of your people nor my engineers could remove it from you last night."

I smiled and winced again as I reached a hand back to type in the code at the small of my back. The armor collapsed, folding layer upon layer as it curled up my legs and retreated over my shoulders, leaving me once again in the tuxedo I had been wearing last night.

"So that's how you got in armor so quickly," T'Ravt commented, with a hint of admiration in her voice. "In the dim moonlight last night, it was difficult to see exactly how that worked."

"My cadre?" I left the question open as I arched an eyebrow at my hostess, taking a small sip from my drink as I did. It was hot, but oddly bland.

"They have taken Koris' body back to your ship," T'Ravt said, her eyes and voice falling. "Mr. Krios and the _Sergeant_ _Major_ are still here, awaiting your awakening."

The spark of suspicion was still in her eyes, and in her stance. Which meant I would have to answer myriad unspoken questions, none of which I truly wanted to answer. Least of all to a Warlord, however polite and congenial she might be.

"You have questions that only I have answers to," I said quietly.

"I observed many things last night that no one has answered to my satisfaction," she answered. Again, it was a statement rather than a question.

 _Deep breath_.

"You speak now to the _Seneschal_ of the Prothean Empire. Last night you beheld the slave weapon that the Protheans constructed, bit by bloody bit, in their laboratories and cold operating tables." It wasn't a detailed explanation, but that was all she was getting. Her stance relaxed, _slightly_.

Her navy lips pursed slightly. "You did not know Commander Kean or I last night. You did not even recognize young Mr. Krios' face when you met us on the field…"

"The closest thing it might be compared to is a Krogan Blood-Rage. Twice as deadly, except not quite so…uncontrolled." I met her inquisitive gaze, a mirthless smile on my lips. "Your people were in no danger from me, Lady. But of course you had no way to know that. And…the _other guy_ …is not the most talkative of sorts."

T'Ravt turned and filled up a glass of water from a pitcher on the side-table. She strode to the window, looking out over the wreck and carnage of the field in front of us. Her aura was… calmed slightly, but there was enough suspicion to tell me that she knew I wasn't saying everything. After a long sip from her drink, she offered a single word. "Dangerous."

"Now you know why I prefer to use words to accomplish my means," I said, sipping the coffee as I rose, tiredly striding to her side.

"Have you considered…a mind healer, perhaps?" T'Ravt said gently, genuine sincerity and concern in her voice and her expression. "These things are often buried, and buried deep…"

I set the coffee cup down, pointedly not looking at her. "Do you have any intelligence on who paid the pirates to attack us last night?"

T'Ravt, thankfully, took the hint, her voice resuming its usual tones of regal formality. "The records we salvaged from their ship and their Omni-Tools was inconclusive."

"Aria would not have bothered with a straightforward assault," I thought aloud. "She would have simply placed a nuke on the freighter and detonated it once your GUARDIANs had brought it down."

"She is not one for…a _fair fight_ if she can help it," T'Ravt agreed. "She also does not have the allegiance of so many krogan mercenaries…after what she has done to the Patriarch."

"The Blood Pack, then," I concluded. "Ganar or Zaen?"

T'Ravt smiled, mirthlessly. "Ganar has not returned from his attempts to rebuild the Blood Pack's support base on Tuchanka," she stated simply. "He also distains assassination attempts, as well as _asari_ commandos."

Which left just one possible culprit. "Zaen."

She nodded in agreement. "A bold move. Intelligent, even, if it had been successful. Of course, a good deal _less so_ , now that it has failed."

That was an understatement if ever I'd heard one. My fists slowly clenched as I breathed, staring out at the cratered grounds with their shattered walls before making a snap decision. "My battle fleets are gathering in preparation for a full invasion of Heshtok. I will be cutting the Blood Pack off from their source of cannon fodder."

T'Ravt looked at me with a note of surprise at my free volunteering of such information, though she concealed it quickly enough. After a few moments, she smiled slyly and offered me information in turn: "My network has heard multiple rumors of Zaen recently broaching an agreement with the Warrior. I do not intend on allowing them to formally ally."

I gave her a sideways glance. "A mission for Commander Kean, perhaps?"

Her eyes narrowed, but the coy smile remained on her lips. "Perhaps."

I focused, forcing my fists to relax and unclench. "There are already many moving against the both of us, my Lady, so I will waste no time with pretty words or empty promises. Fight with me, warrior with warrior. My fleets are amassing in the Terminus Systems We will make the Blood Pack _bleed_. If you do the same, we will make no move against your territory or any territory of the Blood Pack that your forces may seize. Your ships may refit and refuel at Conclave Depot Stations, if my ships may do the same at your ports."

Turning back to her, I shook my head slightly before she could speak. "And no, Yan, this is not a formal alliance and does not in _any_ way bind you to Conclave rule, law, or command. This is our two forces simply _not_ fighting each other, while I exact a payment of full measure and with terrible interest for the life of my friend."

When she only regarded me silently, her smile gone in favor of a calculating poker face, I reached out a hand. "I make this promise by my authority as Imperator of the Conclave, which shall not be questioned by the Circle. Do we have an accord, _Warlord?_ "

T'Ravt looked down at my hand, then back up at me. "I am a being of my word, Imperator. Elam'Koris died while under my oath of safe conduct. I owe the Zaen and his Blood Pack pain for that."

Bringing her own arm up, she clasped my hand, wrist to wrist, in the time-honored turian warrior's salute. "My strength to yours…Ko'le."

Our biotics flared and mingled with her words, blue-white and green-black.

"So mote it be," I spoke the words quielty in High Thessian, then released her arm, taking a few deep breaths. "And now I must bear my friend's body back to his people. And to his father."

T'Ravt nodded, her hands folding behind her in a classic turian military stance. "With your permission, I will compose a message to Zaal'Koris, expressing my personal condolences in the death of his son. His duty on my world may have been difficult," Impossible, she meant, "But he did not shirk from it."

I bowed my gratitude. "A gesture that I know will be deeply appreciated."

Reaching out, I took hand in mine again, pulsing _comradery_ and _vengeance_. She returned with _solidarity_ and _satisfaction._

"Athame guard and guide you, Lady T'Ravt."

She took her free hand clasped it over my own, squeezing once. "And with you…my friend."

Nodding once, I turned and strode through the door. Outside, I found Kolyat and Pyke whirling to face me, while Kean and Kaste also rose to their feet. A bit slowly in the old general's case, thanks to the leg stuck in a medical cast.

"Imperator, are you -?" Kolyat began.

"I am fine," I replied, cutting him off. "Sergeant Major, report."

Pyke clicked his heels together. "Sah! Estimated thirty-seven hostiles remaining on the field upon the 85th Battalion's arrival. They attempted to engage in a rearguard action to cover their retreat, but the Lady Warlord's reinforcements," he nodded to the general, "cut them off, surrounding the mansion entirely. They did not elect to attempt to surrender, sah."

"A modicum of sense, at least," I scoffed, picturing their options of dying quickly in the field versus a slow, agonizing end at the hand of one of the Lady's interrogators. "Casualties?"

"Sah, one wounded: Imperator, Ko'le Seneschal: Treated for mild concussion and laid to rest in separate chamber. One KIA: Qwib Qwib, Lieutenant Elam'Koris vas, SAH." Pyke's expression was the epitome of professionalism, his voice and expression not betraying the grief only I could sense in his aura.

"Imperator," Kaste said, stepping forward. "I deeply regret the loss of Lt. Koris. He was… a brave soldier. I swear to you, we will have our vengeance upon the orchestrators of this cowardly action."

I nodded, noticing the assassin behind him twitching a little at the word 'cowardly'. "Thank you, General. I am glad to see your own wounds are healing well."

A curt nod dismissed my concern. "A mere scratch, sir."

Nodding in return, I turned to the human as he moved around the Turian. "Kean."

"Imperator." He replied flatly. He didn't radiate open distrust and suspicion, but it had merely been replaced with the kind of wariness you showed dangerous animals.

"I owe you… _much_. For last night." I let the open statement sink in with the Commander, who simply drew his shoulders back and pursed his lips slightly. In his business… favors were the most valuable currency, and his surprise was practically audible.

Several seconds passed before he shook his head, then offered me the first genuinely polite Batarian nod he'd given me. "Another time."

"Another time. Corporal Krios, Sergeant Major, fall in," I said, striding towards the door, with my two companions following close behind.

A short shuttle-ride later, and the reassuring of each and every one of my team that I was in fact fine, save for a slight headache (Kelly then running off to get me pain medications and treatments for a concussion), I strode into the Communications Room.

"Dad?" A quiet voice greeted me.

I turned to see EDI seated at the table. Sighing, I changed directions to sit down beside her. "Hey, kiddo."

"I'm…sorry about Elam. I should've… I should've…when the jamming started…"

"This is _no one's fault_ ," I said, firmly, in a tone that did not brook or invite argument. "He knew the risks when he took this mission. There was no way we could have anticipated this attack. He acted bravely and without hesitation. We must not cheapen his bravery with our own self-doubt and guilt."

When she said nothing, I reached out and put an arm around her shoulders. "Do you understand?"

EDI looked up from the floor and nodded wordlessly.

Nodding back, I let go and fought the urge to clench my fists again. "But what we _can_ do, is to make sure that his death means something. How long until the Holo-Summit?"

EDI drew her shoulders back. "They are ready whenever you are. All of them answered your call."

" _All_ _seventeen_ of them?" I asked, my eyebrows rising in unfeigned surprise.

"This is not a kind of invitation they could afford to turn down." She pointed out with a tiny smile. "The majority of their Communicators that they have used to login to the broadcast contain triple-encrypted quantum entanglers: impossible to trace."

 _So they weren't idiots then. Shame._

I reached to the small of my back again, engaging my armor to deploy around me once again. If I was going to meet them, they would meet the Imperator of the Conclave, not a soft-spoken diplomat.

"Go ahead and connect them, EDI."

EDI's holographic form disappeared, and her blue orb appeared on the wall.

 **"Connecting you now, Imperator,"** her 'official Shipboard A.I.' voice boomed out over the ship's speaker system.

As the final folds of my helmet deployed around my dreadlocks, the room darkened and I was in the holographic presence of multiple other figures: some sitting, some standing. Each of them was broadcasting from their various ships or base locations across the Terminus and the Dark Rim systems.

Before I had departed for the banquet hall, I had sent out an offer to each of the smaller pirate holdouts who had not declared for Aria, T'Ravt, Sederis, or Zaen, the four warlords who were fast emerging as the principle powers in the wake of the Conclave's aggressive expansion through the Terminus System. A few of the figures I recognized:

Cessa Reshawk, commonly known as Cessa 'the Blade': an Asari huntress. She was one of the few warlords who still held territory within the Traverse, though most of her holdings were in the wild space of the Dark Rim.

Ashak ul Tirravan, the self-proclaimed 'Pirate King', and a thorn in the side of the both the Alliance and the Salarian Union.

A black-armored figure that I could only assume was the infamous batarian raider known only as The Warrior.

As for the rest, there were various humans, turians, and batarians as the predominate species. Of the rest, the most impressive was the single krogan who sat in dim lighting with his arms crossed, regarding me darkly with his one remaining eye.

I strode forward to make sure the various cameras presented my armored frame, not bothering with a polite nod or the other courtly courtesies. These were dregs of the Terminus social barrel: They were only here because they respected or feared my strength. They were not here for my pretty words or promises.

A batarian stood, his head bobbing so deeply to the left in an indication of groveling flattery that it left me disgusted. "Imperator, thank you for…" he began, but I cut him off with a raise of my right hand and a withering glare, to which he sat down immediately, to the annoyed stares of his fellow pirates.

"Captains," I said, using the one rank that I could recognize they all held in common, my helmet synthesizing and amplifying my voice. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.

Before we continue, I feel it is necessary to clear up a few misconceptions some of you may have: You are here because you have survived. Because you have proven yourselves resourceful leaders, capable of acting for what is best for you and your men. I acknowledge this, and respect this talent you each of demonstrated."

One of the Turians shifted, opening his mouth to speak only for me to cut him off with a growl.

"You are NOT here, however, to negotiate with me, or because you hold any kind of bargaining chips that I desire. Simply put, you NEED ME, and frankly put, I do not need you….

I make this offer to you, not because I cannot defeat each of you, or indeed, all of you combined, but because my time is precious, and I do not think any of you are WORTH the effort. But if you _insist_ to me that you are, by your continued raiding and resistance to my expeditionary forces, then I will grant you that wish. If you demand death at the end of my blade, then I will grant you that honor."

All of the Batarians, save Tirravan and the groveler, shifted their postures to indignation. My focus shifted to the Pirate King, who simply tapped a single finger on his chair's armrest. Curling my lip slightly, I continued on.

"There will be those among you who will suggest that your salvation is to be found in unity. 'If we join together we can fight him,' they will say. To which I respond: 'Well and good.' Combining your fleets will make it harder for you to hide, and consequently, easier for my patrol fleets to find you…And then you will die."

"There will be others among you who will suggest running. 'Let's flee to the Dark Rim,' they'll say, or the more insane ones may even be so bold or stupid as to suggest the Perseus Veil. To these, I also say, 'Well and good.' The Geth have not allowed anyone in their territory for three centuries, but if you believe so strongly that you can succeed where the Migrant Fleet, the largest fleet in the galaxy, failed…gentlemen, go right ahead."

More than a few of them shifted uncomfortably, clearly intelligent enough to recognize a suicidal idea when they heard it.

"Or you can try the Dark Rim, along with every other pirate who's managed to escape either my, or Aria's, or T'Ravt's clutches. You will find yourselves holed up in an asteroid somewhere in the Dark Rim, living off nutrient pastes for months on end, watching your weapon reserves deplete rapidly, and your fuel only slightly less so. Space is a cold and unforgiving mistress, my friends. Before long, you will find yourselves outmaneuvered, outgunned, and outnumbered by your rivals and former friends, turned rabid by desperation and hunger…and then you will die."

Several glanced at Cessa, who visibly glared down any who did so. Excepting the Conclave, she was the only being who knew where life-bearing worlds could be found out in the rim, and had made it violently clear over the last century that she wouldn't tolerate anyone else trying to breach her territory.

" _Or_ …" I continued, my voice losing none of its hard edge. "You can pledge your ships and your strongholds to me, here and now. I offer to you the command of your ships, and the control of your territories. But make no mistake: you will submit to Conclave rule and therefore Conclave laws. This may mean some of you will lose your previous sources of revenue. But have no fear: Valiant soldiers will never want for pay in the Conclave. Fight for me, prove your worth, and you will be rewarded handsomely with additional authority, larger territory, and eternal glory."

Then I turned away, waving a hand behind me dismissively, not bothering to look at their initial reactions. "You each have 24 standard Omega hours to make your reply. After that, gentlemen: your fates are in your own hands. Join me, or die: The first is the easiest for you. The second is the easiest for me."

Stopping at the door, I turn back and glared around the room. Making eye contact with each and every one of them in turn, noting which offered defiance, which offered thoughtfulness. Then I turned and waved an arm dismissively.

"EDI, end transmission."

* * *

 ***CIERAN KEAN***

The Imperator and his two companions had scarcely left the room when the door opened again and T'Ravt appeared with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"My Lady," Kaste said, approaching alongside me, "I beg of you to allow me to take full responsibil –"

"Oh, _spirits,_ Kaste," The Lady responded, looking almost annoyed as she waved a hand dismissively. "If you had not fortified this stronghold so capably, we would most certainly be having this conversation in the Undead Halls of Cincinnatus. There will be no more mention of such foolishness, _by anyone_ , in my presence. Is that understood?"

The Turian general, evidently mollified by T'Ravt's dismissal of any blame on his part, saluted her gravely. I simply twitched my head into something like a nod, less concerned with laying blame and more focused on what we were learning in the aftermath.

"Understood," Kaste rumbled solemnly.

"Well then," The Warlord took a breath in slowly through her nose, and then let it out in a tight exhalation as she collected her thoughts. "To business: How in Athame's sacred name did this happen? How did Zaen hire a crew of pirates and thugs under our very noses to attack us in _my_ city _?_ "

"The pirates were already on-planet," Kaste answered, "in the nominal employ of Quintus Lillenfal. We believe they were contracted by Zaen via the Communications center in Lilenfal's palace on the southern continent."

"And Lillenfal?" the Lady asked, her voice hard.

"He is awaiting you at your residence, to give his _personal_ assurance that this was done without his knowledge, and certainly without his involvement," The Turian replied, his mandibles flaring.

She gave him a hard look. "And you believe him?"

Kaste took a deep breath, choosing his words _very_ carefully before answering. "He is young enough, and perhaps _stupid_ enough, for this to happen under his command, but he is Xenthan by birth, Lady: I find it _truly_ hard to believe he would turn traitor."

T'Ravt was silent for several long moments before she turned to me. "And the krogan? The commandos?"

"A private group that entered the city almost six weeks ago," I reported. "They called themselves 'Maw's Wrath.' They held a bounty-hunting certification on Omega in proxy from the Blood Pack, but as far as we've been able to determine, they are not full members. It was their trawler that they employed on their little suicide run."

T'Ravt nodded, processing and analyzing the information we had given her so far. It didn't take her long before she began slowly pacing, her words coming out smoothly as she outlined our initial maneuvers. "Order the new Redcliffe regiments onto their transports, and double the weapons orders from Shaaryak on Illium. I want the dreadnoughts the Imperator brought us transferred to Antiva's shipyards at once for fitting out. Recruitment quotas is to be doubled, I will dictate that during the upcoming summit."

"It _is_ war then, my Lady?" Kaste asked, his mandibles twitching once. "With the Conclave's fleets so close…"

"The Imperator and I have entered into an agreement," T'Ravt informed us brusquely. "They will steer clear of our waters, and we will steer clear of theirs. Our vessels will have safe haven and refit privileges at Conclave ports, the favor to be reciprocated to their ships."

I raised my eyebrows, surprised by the Imperator for the second time that morning. "That's _fucking_ generous of him. We'll have to make sure his people stay on their ships though."

The Lady's lips twitched, no doubt as she imagined the kind of incident that could occur if a Conclave ship tried to give their crew leave on one of her worlds. "Quite. An additional factor to the agreement was a promise that I will keep all of the territory seized from Zaen and Ganar."

Kaste let out a choked gasp of surprise. "He claims not to be a dictator; will the Circle approve such an agreement?"

T'Ravt nodded slowly. "I believe they will. Zaal'Koris will be out for blood for his son's death, Petrovsky will see the advantages to be gained, and the hanar will agree with anything their Herald declares."

I resisted the urge to snort. She wasn't even on the Circle and she already was working out how to ensure that she had a majority vote on her side. "What does he want in return?"

"Apparently nothing more than the satisfaction of seeing the Blood Pack bleed. His fleets are already in position to invade Heshtok directly, cutting Zaen off from his supply of vorcha troops."

I blinked at the news, then brought a hand up to stroke my goatee as I mulled both facts over. "I suppose I can see that motivation, given what we saw of him here. And the move on Heshtok… hm. That will put a lot of pressure on the Blood Pack, especially Zaen. Without a way to replenish his regiments, he won't dare leave his fortress on Zada Ban unless he's desperate, or very confident."

"Once we set up a blockade around the planet, he won't be able to do so anyway," Kaste shook his head, "His fleet is well run but limited, we should be able to brush it aside if the capital ships are free to engage. From there we can land the reserve units from Anderfels on Zada Ban's moon to take out his facilities there and prep a staging zone for a full attack."

My head tilted left, but I waved a hand as I voiced my concern. "This will all be dependent on Ganar not pulling his troops from Tuchanka and coming to Zaen's aid, and if none of the lesser Warlords try to jump in."

"He won't leave the homeworld." T'Ravt shook her head once, "He's sentimental, in his own way. And with the Conclave supporting Clan Urdnot, he will be tied down there for the foreseeable future. Ganar will not allow himself to suffer the dishonor of losing his clan's ancestral hunting grounds."

I grunted. "Do you think that Aria will keep Garm's forces tied up on Omega? If he can't levy the rabble from the station's lowers, it would at least keep them from raiding us."

"I will work with her to ensure they won't be able to leave the station." T'Ravt flicked her eyes back to Kaste. "Inform my Admirals that the fleets will be deploying. The _Sash of Fire_ is already above Redcliffe, but I want her joined by the _Dark Tide_ to escort the new regiments to Lusarn."

"The crescent Nebula?" The older turian's mandibles worked for a moment in thought, then a look of understanding crossed his face. "The weapons factories at Tarith."

"Unless Zaen has rerouted the local Pack leaders since Ganar's departure, Jorgal Salamul will still be in command there," T'Ravt continued, nodding in confirmation. "Once Zaen's forces are locked down in Zada Ban, and with Garm occupied on Omega…"

"He'll an idiot who will be badly outnumbered." I mused, a small smirk on my face. "And without any reinforcements on the way."

"A useful combination that I intend to take full advantage of," the Lady smiled knowingly. "Then there remains but one factor necessary for our plans..."

I tilted my head left to indicate my understanding. "If we want to cycle fresh regiments from Anderfels with any kind of efficiency, you'll need Cessa's relays."

T'Ravt nodded her approval. "And she has already stated the price of her joining her strength to our own."

The Warrior, dead. She wasn't picky about how it happened, so long as her long-time rival was no longer around to cause her grief.

"I will make preparations to leave immediately, Lady T'Ravt," I said, giving her a slight bow. "But I'd like to have a few extra guns on this hunt if it's to be both quick _and_ successful."

The Lady tilted her head in thought. "Take the Kithans with you. Additionally, Reyja'krem Ullayis indicated that she had accepted my invitation to join us last night. She and her cadre will join your company in support. General, walk with me and tell me what we know of the Blood Pack's fleet…"

Taking the Lady's unspoken dismissal, I took three paces backwards before leaving her and Kaste to continue their plans.

Most of which would be either dead in the water or made unnecessarily complicated if we didn't have access to the Blade's relays.

So, no pressure then.

I cracked the bones of my neck as I strode out of Kaste's mansion, now littered with craters, debris, and bloodstains. It had been a long night, even after our direct role in the conflict had ended. The fuckers hadn't gone down easy, taking a fair number of our own troops down with them in their impressive, but ultimately futile blaze of glory. They'd known that the only thing waiting for them was a slow death as prisoners if they didn't choose to die in battle.

Pursing my lips a little, I shook my head and decided to mark this situation as a reminder for myself. Any plan that ended in that kind of situation was, by definition, a bad one.

Two figures leaned against a broken pylon on the edge of the courtyard as I approached, both Rane and Voya looking about as tired as I felt. When the last of the Maw's Wrath had been sent to the Paragon's Judgement, the three of us had managed to stumble home, where Voya and Rane had collapsed in their armor to steal a few hours of sleep. I, on the other hand, had had to stay up and process the intel that our people were collecting on our would-be assassins. At some point in the early morning I apparently dozed off, because I had been awakened by the Lady's summons a few hours later.

In short, we were all _fucking_ exhausted.

"Cieran. You look like shit." Voya's voice was harsh and sleep-deprived.

"What news?" My ever-practical lover inquired, ignoring the Quarian entirely.

I elected to follow her example. "We leave for the Haskins System by tomorrow at the latest."

Voya perked up at the news, her hands going instinctively to her blades. "The Warrior?"

I nodded. "The Lady has ordered his death, like a Justicar of old. And we are her silver blades of judgement."

Voya scoffed. "That's a _terrible_ name for a team of assassins. And where did the Asari crap come from? "

"Tired, spending too much time around T'Ravt, take your pick." I shrugged before letting out a long yawn. Closing my mouth, I saw Rane looking pensive. "What's wrong?"

"It won't be easy," Her eyes split between Voya and I. "With just the three of us."

"Reyja'krem Kithan and her husband will be joining us," I answered. "Along with Ayle and her cadre. We need to track them down… or send someone else to do it."

Rane tensed. I could tell she was uneasy at the addition of so many members of the highest caste of Batarian society. Her head going instinctively left as she asked the questions on her mind. "Will they be willing to take orders from one such as you, Commander? Not all Reyja'krem are as gregarious as ul Massa…"

I shrugged. "They may be Reyja'krem, but _I_ speak with Lady's authority and hold my rank directly from her. They'll understand that. And if they don't, Voya can skin them in their sleep."

Rane reached out and punched me in the shoulder. " _Pillars_ , you shouldn't encourage her."

Voya grinned wickedly, fingers playing with her newest krogan crest-shard on her necklace. "That _is_ the reason I find him _slightly_ more tolerable than the rest of his species."

My lover sighed and gave me an annoyed little look. "Will we be taking anyone else on?"

"Dietrich maybe, if Weshan lets him and if he wants to." Which he might... or might not. There was every chance this run was going to be more than a little dangerous despite my base plans all relying on us being as far away as possible. "Come on, let's get moving."

"The Warrior..." Our Quarian friend mused as we started walking. "Well, he's no Imperator, but at least it will be some kind of challenge."

"Thank the Pillars for their small kindnesses," Rane breathed. "I saw him tear one of the pirate's helmet off his body, with his head still inside it."

I nodded my agreement. I hadn't seen such an impressive display of biotics since…since…

 _Pillars,_ I had never seen such an impressive display of biotics.

"Any plan to bring him down will need a _shit-ton_ more null-grenades involved," I said in answer. "Either that or a small-yield nuke...Even then, I'd want to see the body. He _did_ indicate that he owed me a favor, though."

Rane shot me an impressed look.

"Such a favor might be highly valuable," she said thoughtfully. "Especially if, Paragons forbid, a struggle should erupt between the Conclave and T'Ravt's forces."

I considered sharing the news on the Conclave and the Lady's forces working in tandem to take down the Blood Pack, but held my tongue for the moment. We were still in the open air, and there were always listening ears about. The same went for the Imperator's out of control personality that I'd gotten to see up and close and personal. It had been beyond dangerous, and it had seemed capable of learning... but it had also been bestial, uncoordinated, and entirely reliant on its biotics.

If, the Pillars forbid, we ever had to engage him in an _actual_ fight... there was an idea there. A cruel one, but if kept us alive and him dead, well... that was all that really mattered in the end. Of course, we now had a potential alternative in the favor owed. If T'Ravt was obviously on the losing side of any such conflict, using it to get out of any such war was a possibility. But even in such a circumstance, where would we go after?

I shook my head a little, hardly listening to Voya scoffing as we approached our battered old shuttle, parked carefully on the far edge of Kaste's compound. The three of us had put countless hours into the machine, and we were, I confess, quite proud of it, and all the extras we'd installed. Two of which, Pillars-be-thanked, was an autopilot and a mini-bar. Both of which I engaged upon stepping into the vehicle.

"We'll burn that bridge when we come to it," Voya was saying to Rane. "We had a great fight, a great light-show, Kean got to punch the Imperator, and I got another shard for my necklace. I call it a win…"

"I normally would be afraid of Voya getting a big head, but for once I agree with her," I replied. "We'll let tomorrow's winds bring their sand to us in time."

I sighed, looking out the window at the charred remains of last night's battle.

"For now," I said, reaching over and pulling out a bottle of Illium Red, "We win."

I proceeded to pour each of us what I planned to be the first of many drinks as our shuttle took off, taking us back to the grungy little downtown workshop we called home.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **And that concludes this little short story, everyone!  
I'm thrilled beyond words at the opportunity to collaborate with an author of Katkiller-V's caliber, and, as I said before, I can hope you guys have had as much fun reading as we've had writing.**

 **Please let us know what you think, either in a review or a PM! It means a lot to me to hear from awesome people such as yourselves! :D**

 **Thanks everyone! ROCK ON!**

 **-Tusken1602**

* * *

Reviewer Reponses: (Reviews are back! YAY! *Happy DANCE*

griezz – Yeah, Ko'le could have played this a lot smarter, that's to be sure. But that's the main theme of the story, I think: Foreknowledge of future events does not always guarantee you'll have ALL the answers. Thanks for the awesome thoughts!

Jackli10345, BJ Hanssen – Glad you've liked them! We have no _plans_ to continue the story beyond our original 7-chapter outline, but who knows? If enough people like it, anything is possible, I suppose.

Toothless is best – LOL

Hei-Uchiha – Don't apologize, my friend! That's the beauty of FanFiction! There's something here for everybody! :D Thanks for taking the time to share your thoughts!

Lord Mortem, Guest – Glad you guys liked it! :D


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